


Of Care and Maintenance

by neko_fish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Comedy, Dogs, Fluff and Angst, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sheith Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko_fish
Summary: There’s a garden on the roof.It starts with one inconspicuous potted plant that Shiro notices one evening during his after-work breather.From there, things just keep growing





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, huge, huge shout out to the amazing [glyphhunter](https://glyphhunter.tumblr.com/) for being my artist! Go check them out!

  


  


There’s a garden on the roof.

It starts with one inconspicuous potted plant that Shiro notices one evening after during his after-work breather.

Living on the 23rd floor of a 26-storey building isn’t always the best. The elevator takes forever to reach him in the morning and he’s practically housebound whenever someone moves in or out of the building. But at least he’s less than a dozen flights of stairs up from the roof. It would’ve been easier if the penthouse suites didn’t have two floors and such ridiculously high ceilings, but who is he to question the architectural design and aesthetics of the building?

He almost walks right past the miniature pine tree, but the speckle-painted pot makes him backpedal a few steps to it. Crouching down in front of it, he sifts through his memories and tries to determine if the shrub is a new addition to the rarely visited rooftop or if he simply overlooked it...for the last five months since he discovered this place.

No, there’s no way he would’ve missed a small tree in a red and white pot. Besides, the paint on it still looks bright and new so it couldn’t have been out here for too long. Was it left out here on purpose for sunshine or was the owner just hoping to get rid of the thing?

Shiro smiles.

Well, either way, he’ll have to bring something to water it with the next time he heads to the rooftop.

\--

The next day he finds a plastic yellow watering can and a large bucket sitting next to the tree. While he’d been looking forward to watering the plant, there’s still a sense of relief knowing that it hadn’t been left up here to be abandoned.

With the first and only thing of his mental checklist completed, he leans forward against the waist-high ledge and looks out at the city.

There isn’t very much to see. It’s mostly cityscape with mountaintops peeking out in the distance beyond the expanse of desert, but he enjoys the feeling of wind in his hair. Opening the water bottle he’d brought with him for the plant, he takes a sip and mentally starts going over his preparation checklist for the flight sim tomorrow. As much as he loves the sims, he wishes the garrison didn’t schedule his class in for right after lunch—if only for the janitor’s sake. But then again, there’s a high chance that it’s scheduled like that on purpose.

The instructors liked to place bets.

He’s only an assistant instructor in his last year before graduation, but he’s been handling most of the first and second year tactical flight theory and practical courses since the start of the term since the instructor, Commander Iverson, came back from a particularly wild holiday with a sore back and asked him to take over all aspects of the courses that required standing, bending, walking, jumping, and other general movements.

“I can handle third and fourth years, but these young ones are a hazard to my health. The kids seem to like you more anyway,” the instructor had told him. “I bet half of these cadets don’t even know I’m the instructor.”

“If that’s the case, maybe it’d be best if I took a step back, sir,” he replied easily.

Iverson sighed, “No, no, you keep at it. You’re doing a fine job, Shiro. It’s nice to hear laughter every once in a while. If you don’t renew your position here, by the time next term rolls by, you can expect the halls to be covered in blood, tears, and vomit.”

“Oh, I should go pick up more paper bags,” he mutters to himself, turning around and leaving the rooftop.

\--

“Hey Shiro, can you do me a favour?”

He stops packing his things and looks up with his phone to his ear. “Yeah, sure, what’s up, Matt?”

“I left my laptop at home and got my sister to take it with her, can you please swing by her workplace and grab it for me? It should be along your way. I’ll send you the address. She goes by Pidge,” Matt explains.

“Workplace? I thought you had a younger sister?” he asks.

“Yeah, but her schedule’s pretty lax right now so she’s working part-time. You know, typical first semester—nothing but math and intro classes for the science track.”

Shiro nods and slings his messenger bag around his shoulder. “And being a Holt, I’m sure she’s breezing through the math. Alright, no problem, just send me the address. I’m heading out now so I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Matt’s sister’s workplace turns out to be a small florist cafe a few blocks down. Sitting quaintly on the corner on the edge of the residential area, the vine-woven doors are wide open with shelves of flowers on either side. Stepping inside, he’s immediately hit by the smell of flowers and coffee. The interior is thoroughly decorated with flowers and plants of all kinds and a small bundle of flowers on every table.

Looking up, he sees that the rafter are covered in vines and hanging plants. “We’re trying to see if grapes will grow up there,” a woman suddenly says.

He gives a start and turns around to find a woman with long, flowing white hair and sharp blue eyes. “Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman says apologetically. “My name is Allura, I’m the owner of this shop. Welcome to Cafe Altea. Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Thank you, but I’m actually here to look for Pidge for a laptop?”

Allura smiles and nods. “Pidge is in the back right now. It was for a laptop, was it? If there’s anything else you need, please let Coran know,” she says, gesturing at the redheaded man with the impressive moustache behind the counter.

Shiro thanks her again and makes his way to the counter to study the chalk-written menu; a colourful mix of coffee, food, and plants and seeds. Overwhelmed at the selection, he decides to fall back to the basics and asks, “Hi, can I get a large coffee to go, please?”

“Is French press alright?”

“That’s perfect, thank you,” he says, putting down the money before turning around to return to admiring the shop. In front of the window, he notices some potted plants. Walking over, briefly, he thinks about the lonely little tree up on the roof and considers getting it a companion.

Then he notices the speckled painted pots.

“Do you guys hand paint your pots here?”

Coran nods enthusiastically. “That we do, young man! All the pots you see were painted by our very own staff! What’s more is a lot of the pots and vases and baskets you see here are made from recycled material collected from this neighbourhood.”

Shiro smiles. “I think that’s great. Actually, I’m pretty sure someone in my building bought a little tree from here not too long ago.”

“How lovely to hear! You know, just between you and me, not that many people can commit to buying a potted plant,” Coran says. He tries to interject to point out that the coffee’s done, but the man continues, “Flowers are temporary and seeds are fun to grow, but potted plants are all about care and maintenance. It takes dedication and love to grow potted plants.”

“Coran, are you rambling on about plant maintenance again?” a new voice joins in, much to Shiro’s silent relief. Taking a detour behind the counter, the short brunette with glasses identical to Matt’s pours the coffee into a sleeved cup and says, “Don't mind him, he’s always like this. Here’s Matt’s laptop and your coffee. You should just grab it and go before you’re late for class.”

Placing the laptop carefully in his bag and taking the cup, Shiro looks over at the other, taken aback for a moment at the striking similarity between the siblings, and says, “Pidge, right? Thanks, this coffee smells amazing.”

“Just wait until you taste it,” Coran says, his chest out with pride. “We source all of the beans directly from the farmers. I personally went there to meet the farmers myself. You should’ve seen it, there I was in the middle of a forest—”

Lips pursed, Pidge heaves a sigh, “Please don’t get him started on the coffee beans too. My shift doesn’t end until eleven.”

Shiro chuckles. “It sounds like a very interesting story, you’ll have to tell me the rest another time, Coran. I can’t believe I’ve never heard about this place before.”

“We’re still a relatively new store, all things considering. This plot of land used to be my home. My father and I used to spend hours gardening in the back,” Allura explains; the words left unspoken telling another story.

“I think it’s because we don’t have enough of an online presence,” Pidge says. “Hey Shiro, why don’t you leave us our first review? I’m sure we’ll get a lot of attention if the star cadet of Galaxy Garrison mentions us.”

His first instinct is to deny the name but decides to shrug it off for the sake of punctuality. “I think you’re overestimating my reach, but if you think it’ll help, consider it done.” He smiles and raises his cup. “Thanks for the coffee, see you next time.”

\--

When he arrives at the garrison, he finds Matt waiting for him at the front of the building. “You have the goods?” his best friend asks mock-slyly.

Shiro snorts and takes the laptop out of his bag and hands it over. “Heavens forbid you stray off to the dark side. The entire scientific community around the world would be in tears if anything were to happen to a Holt, and then the next thing you know, I’ll have mysteriously vanished. Besides, isn’t it more like do _you_ have the goods?”

“I'll do you one better,” Matt says, pulling out his phone.

In his pocket, his phone chirps and he pulls it out to inspect it. Much to Shiro’s delight, he finds a video of the Holts’ dog, Gunther, doing tricks. “Aww,” he coos at his screen, “who’s the smartest puppy in the world? You are, Gunther! Yes, you are! I'm going to steal you one day and keep you in my apartment.”

“Guess I'll know where to start looking if he ever goes missing,” Matt scoffs, pushing up his glasses. “Shiro, your building doesn't even allow pets.”

“I'd happily move for Gunther,” Shiro says firmly.

Matt nods. “I don't doubt that considering how you learnt how to say ‘good dog’ in seven different languages on the off chance you run into a dog abroad. C’mon, stop scheming and let's get to class, Mr. Star Cadet.”

Shiro furrows his brows briefly before taking off after his friend. “Has anyone ever told you how much you and your sister resemble each other?”

\--

When he gets home that evening, there’s a new, small pot with a bundle of succulents on the roof next to the other plant on an old wobbly wooden table. The pot is painted with green and yellow stripes and he’s resolved to bring up a hammer and nails to fix that table the next time he comes up.

Looking down at the little tree in the red-white pot, he smiles and says, “It’s like they read my mind. At least you have company now, Red.” He's never been good at naming things. He'd named his childhood pet ‘Mr. Cat’ because the cat was, well, a cat, and Shiro was only a three year old at the time—although evidently a respectful one, and the name stuck. “You know,” he continues, “I dropped by your old home this morning, maybe I’ll get you another friend to join you in case Green here tips over.”

Even as he says that, he knows that the thought of leaving the plant on the table so precariously isn’t something he can turn a blind eye to. Mulling over it for another minute, he gives in and jogs downstairs for his tools.

\--

Over the next few weeks, Shiro finds himself back at Cafe Altea every other morning whenever the elevator cooperates with him. Hanging around the café and being given full access by Allura, he meets some of the other employees, sampling Hunk’s new creations and admiring Lance’s elaborate flower arrangements. Pidge shows him their nursery and automated irrigation system, and Coran tells him fantastic stories that are just ridiculous enough to be true.

“You should just work here. Allura pays pretty well and you’re here all the time anyway,” Pidge tells him one day, adjusting the programming on the watering system and testing the valve release. Watching her type, he suspects that most of the people in his graduating class can’t do even half of what she does. He certainly can't.

“That sounds like fun, but I don’t think I’m ready to give up teaching yet,” Shiro replies easily.

Pidge considers this for a moment before conceding, “That's probably a good idea. I'd rather have you lead the flight sim classes. I've heard what the other instructors are like from my brother. Blood, sweat, and guts all down the hallway?”

“It's not that bad...sometimes,” he says with a pause. “I think only one kid threw up during my first year.”

“Was it Matt?” Pidge asks, delighted. “I bet it was Matt.”

Shiro laughs. “It wasn’t Matt.”

“Oh man, I bet I'll be that kid when it's our turn,” Hunk says, entering the room with a hand over his stomach. “I don't do so well in flight. It's a good thing you and Lance don’t vomit at the sight of vomit, Pidge.”

He smiles and looks at the two. “So are you planning on working as a team?”

Hunk nods. “If our schedules work out, hopefully. It'd be nice to take a class with Keith too.”

“Keith?”

“You don’t know Keith? I thought you met everyone here already, sorry. I guess he works pretty irregular hours. He mostly works with our potted plants and exotics,” Hunk explains. “I bet he'd be thrilled to meet you, Mr. Star Pilot. Don't tell Lance I said this out loud, but Keith is an amazing pilot.”

As though on cue, from the front where Lance is manning the cash register, there comes a “Hunk, you traitor!”

Hunk leans back and yells back, “Sorry, dude.” Then he turns back to Shiro and adds, “But seriously, you know that flight test they make you do if you enroll as a pilot? Apparently Keith passed with flying colours and got himself a crazy scholarship. He might even be as good as you someday.”

Shiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I'm nothing special, but I'd love to meet him.”

From his side, Pidge lets out a snort. “Nothing special. Right, Shiro. You can’t go and set new records for every single flight sim in the garrison and say you’re ‘nothing special’.”

Raising his hands in defeat, he chuckles, having heard that same line from Matt. “Fair enough. I may have some skill when it comes to piloting. But speaking of potted plants, I was hoping to buy one. Someone's been growing them at my building and I thought it'd be nice to contribute.”

“Yeah, dude, feel free to pick something out. We can lend you a dolly for the day if you need,” Hunk says, slowly reaching out to play with one of the valves.

Pidge scowls and slaps his hand out of the way. “Hey Shiro, why don't you go choose something and take Hunk with you before I turn him into plant fertilizer?

“I don’t think Allura would appreciate finding Hunk’s body parts scattered in the plants,” Shiro says lightly. “I'll get him out of your hair. C’mon, let's leave Pidge alone.”

Hunk pouts but follows him out but then turns around and asks, “Have you considered swapping out the copper for thermoplastic?”

Behind them, he hears Pidge groan in realization before reluctantly calling out, “Thanks, Hunk.”

“Anytime, bud,” Hunk calls back good-naturedly. “Now, let’s see what kind of plant we can get you. Hey, Lance? Can you help me get a dolly from the back?”

“No can do, my guy,” Lance returns. “We’ve got _customers_. Hello, ladies, care to see some flower arrangements by yours truly?”

The two of them exchange looks and Hunk shrugs helplessly. “I’m not getting between that. Honestly, I’m more surprised that we’re getting customers at this hour. It’s, like, almost dinner time.”

Shiro ends up with a small leafy tree in a large yellow pot with black and white zigzags. Allura lends him a dolly and he takes it straight to the roof, setting it down on the ground next to the other plant only to realize how small Red was in comparison. “Huh, I overestimated how big you were, Red. Maybe I can find a nice pedestal for you like what Green’s got, would you like that?”

He takes a step back to admire the cluster of plants.

They’re no Gunther, but he's fond of them nonetheless.

\--

The next day, he goes up to the roof to find his little tree sitting snug, sheltered by a wooden crate with a note attached to one of the branches.

_‘This kind of plant shouldn't be that exposed until it gets a little bigger. -K’_

Shiro immediately turns to the plant and frowns guiltily. “Oh geez, I could've killed you, Yellow. It's a good thing we have a residential botanist, huh?”

Noticing the pen that had been left behind by the mysterious plant saviour, before he leaves, he flips the note around and writes, _‘Sorry and thank you for your help.’_ Then, after a moment of thought, he adds, ‘ _How often would you recommend I water it? -S’_

It's not the best icebreaker, but it's a start.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a loud sigh to his side from the instructor that causes Shiro to look up from marking his papers in concern. “What's wrong, sir?”

“It's nothing. Just this one kid on the pilot track. He’s on the path to beating your records, you know? And he’s still only in his first semester.”

Shiro glances down at the rosters and reads ‘Kogane, K.’. It’s not a name he’s familiar with so it must be someone from the evening class. “Shouldn't you be happy about that? He sounds like he’s showing a lot of promise.”

“He's top of his class and with a little more training, he might even give _you_ a run for your money. It's just too bad he doesn't behave as well as he flies. I’m not the only person who’s noticed his disciplinary issues,” Iverson complains, leaning back in his chair. “I wonder if he'd behave better under you.”

He smiles sheepishly. “I doubt that, sir, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

The man sighs loudly with a hand over his heart. “Why can’t all the genius pilots be like you?”

In the back of his mind, Shiro wonders how he was ever afraid of the man during his first few years at the garrison. “From what I recall, I wasn’t the best student either,” he points out.

Iverson narrows his one good eye at him and suddenly, Shiro remembers exactly why he thought twice before putting super glue down on that seat.

The poor kid had to slide out of his pants to exit the flight sim.

“Ah, yes, it’s all coming back to me now. Hopefully he'll learn to tone it down a little like you by fourth year then,” Iverson corrects himself.

\--

When Shiro returns to the apartment, he finds another note hanging from a branch with detailed watering instructions written out along with ‘ _Thanks for fixing the table last time. I didn’t realize there were other people using the roof. -K’_

He reads over the instructions a few times and carefully tears that part of the note off to keep before adding his own comment to the bottom of the remaining piece. _‘No problem. I don’t think anyone really comes up here except us. We could start a jungle and no one would know. -S’_

The thought makes him smile.

\--

“Did something happen? Did you see a dog? Did you _pet_ a dog? Did you _steal_ a dog? You’re looking awfully happy these days,” Matt tells him after class. He’s got that look in his eyes; the one where he’s noticed a problem and won’t be physically capable of restraining himself until he has answers. _All_ the answers. Systematically reported and well laid out in graphs and charts—the ‘Holt Look’, as Shiro likes to call it.

He shakes his head. “I wish. No, I’ve taken up a bit of gardening, that’s all.”

Matt narrows his eyes in disbelief. “Shiro, not for nothing but gardening rarely makes people smile and hum to themselves like the way you’re doing. Wait, what kind of ‘gardening’ are you doing?”

“Nothing that would raise any concerns or profits, I promise,” Shiro says with his hands up in surrender. “I bought a plant from Pidge’s workplace and I’ve been learning how to take care of it, that’s all. It’s been more fun than I expected.”

Studying him for a moment, Matt smiles and shrugs. “Oh, is that all? I suppose it can be rewarding to learn about how plants work—it’s a little like math. My sister hates the outdoors, but she’s surprisingly good at growing things. Working at that place has been good for her, I think.”

“Not worried about any of the boys there?” Shiro teases.

Matt considers this for a moment and asks, “You mean like Hunk or Lance or Keith? Would _you_ be?”

Shiro thinks about what he knows about the two for a moment and shakes his head. “No, I suppose not, they’re pretty stand-up guys—though I still haven’t met Keith.”

“Well, he mostly keeps to himself, but he seems nice enough. Besides, I’m pretty sure when it really comes down to it, Pidge has me beat in terms of toughness.”

He grins and pats the other on the back. “You have nothing to worry about then, big guy. I’m sure she’ll come to the rescue and defend your honour when the time comes.”

\--

‘ _A jungle on the roof would probably violate 14 different building regulations. I like the way you think...but I also wouldn’t trust you with more than just the one plant for now. -K’_

Shiro scoffs and looks over at the plants and then back at the note and writes down, _‘Hey, give me a chance. I'll improve. Patience yields focus. -S’_

He then proceeds to water his plant according to the instructions he'd been provided.

\--

The plants grow over the last two weeks of the semester, Iverson’s back recovers and he takes over the first years again, giving Shiro with the second and third years instead. “I need to instill a little fear in the new ones first. They’re all going soft,” he had said.

Lance and Hunk both wilt at the news. “Aw man, dude, I was looking forward to having you teach us and, you know, _not_ dying a horrible death and losing my lunch. It’s such a waste of perfectly good food.”

Shiro shrugs helplessly. “There's always next semester. Iverson’s normally a little easier on the first years.”

“Don't his favourite things consist of ‘tears, blood, and guts’? And he keeps calling us donkeys for some reason,” Lance points out with frown and a skeptical brow raised.

He averts his eyes, unable to deny it. “I’m sure you guys will be fine. I mean, you’ve got a great team already between the three of you. It might still be a little tough, but you’ll have fun working with Iverson, and I’ll always be around if you need help with anything. Anyway, I was hoping to get another plant,” he says, changing the subject.

According to his mysterious roof friend, he’s graduated from Botany 101 and is now entitled to a new plant. With that seal of approval, he figured the end of the semester was as good a time as any to celebrate.

Lance perks up. “You’re developing quite the green thumb, aren't you? We actually just got this new one you might like. It's over here,” he says, waving Shiro over towards a plant with leafy vines crawling up a wooden trellis in a large, elaborately painted blue pot. “This beauty is some sort of flowering vine plant and if you could direct your attention to the beautifully decorated pot, you'll notice that it's signed by yours truly.”

Shiro laughs and nods. “Alright, you’ve convinced me, Lance. That’s a great paint job you did. I'll take it.”

“Really? Awesome! Did you see that, Hunk?” Lance asks, turning to his friend excitedly. “I just sold something to Shiro like it was nothing! Man, I should go ask Allura for commission.”

Hunk claps his hand on his friend's back good-naturedly. “Yeah, good luck with that, buddy.”

He takes their dolly again and wheels the plant up to the roof only to find that his co-gardener had the same thought. Sitting on the ledge between Red and Green, there’s a new potted fern in a small black pot speckled with blue, white, and red.

Parking Blue next to Yellow, he steps back to admire the assembly of greenery and notices a new note hanging on Black. Turning it over, he reads, ‘ _Survived another semester. This one is finicky. Be careful with it. -K’_

Shiro blinks. For some reason, he never thought about who this K was or what they did for a living. He wonders if they're an instructor or student. Given that many of the tenants here are funded by the Garrison as part of a scholarship or an employee perk, K could be either. If they're a student, there's a pretty good chance that they've attended one of Shiro’s classes.

He looks up in thought, trying to cycle through the names and faces of his students to see if any of them might fit what little he knows about K. Not surprisingly, he comes up blank.

‘ _Galaxy Garrison?’_ he writes back. ‘ _I had the same thought. Like it? -S’_

The next day, he goes up to the roof to find a new note. Reading it, he can practically hear the distaste in it and laughs.

‘ _Your taste is questionable at best. -K’_

Underneath that, as if an afterthought, there's a hastily scribbled, ‘ _This one is flashy and extravagant but it's hardy. Water it once a day and make sure the soil stays damp.’_

\--

“Hey Allura, how's it going?”

“Oh good, you're here. Can you take the till for a minute?” Allura asks him.

He takes a step back and blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, you, Shiro,” she answers, pointing at him. “I need to run out to pick up some supplies. A new vendor just opened up and I want to see if their stuff is any good. Coran won't be back until next week and Keith isn't picking up. Please, their opening sale is today only. It won't take very long and Hunk will be here in an hour if I'm not back by then.”

Shiro raises his hands in surrender. “I understand, don't worry, Allura. If it's just an hour, I'm sure I can handle it as long as no one orders coffee.”

“Just tell them the machine’s broken or that Hunk’s not in yet. Thanks a lot, Shiro. You're a lifesaver. Help yourself to anything you’d like!” Allura says, running out.

Left alone, Shiro rubs the back of his neck and looks around at the empty shop. He'd been planning to spend his day off here but this wasn't really what he was expecting. “Oh well, I'm sure it'll be fine,” he tells himself, making his way behind the counter to treat himself to a pastry and coffee.

The doorbell jingles as he pours his botched frothed milk into his attempt at a cup of espresso. Looking up, he sees a girl walking in with her arms drawn up as though hesitant to enter. She blinks when she sees him and stands a little straighter.

“Hey there, come on in,” he greets her.

“Hello. Umm, are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Allura had to step out. I'm just helping out for now. You can call me Shiro.”

The girl smiles. “I'm Shay. Is Hunk not in yet?”

“No, you're a little early. He won't be in for another hour so if you want coffee, I'm afraid you're out of luck,” he says, looking down at his cup. “I don't think it'd be right to charge anyone money for my ‘coffee’.”

Shay giggles. “It's alright, I don't mind waiting. Are you a plant expert then?”

Shiro shakes his head again. “Not really. I just spend a lot of time here. I _am_ learning to take care of potted plants though. I have an expert in my building and they've been teaching me.”

“Oh, how exciting. Very soon, I bet you'll be able to start working here,” Shay tells him.

He laughs. “That’s a nice thought but I doubt I'll ever catch up to these guys. They're amazing at what they do. Do you come here very often?”

Shay reddens a little and averts her gaze. “No, only once in a while. I'm in one of Hunk’s engineering classes and he asked me to come by today.”

Shiro can feel a fond smile growing on his lips from the way she fidgets whenever Hunk is mentioned. He's about to reply when the phone rings. This isn't something he'd anticipated. Hesitantly, he picks it up, “Cafe Altea.”

_“Hey, it's Keith. You called?”_

He blinks slowly, remember Allura mentioning that name. “Hi. I think Allura was trying to get a hold of you. She had to step out but Hunk should be here soon. Maybe give her a call on her cell?”

_“Wait, who's this? Never mind, I'm running late. I'll give her a call and see what she needs, thanks.”_

The caller hangs up, leaving Shiro standing there in confusion. “So that was Keith.”

Shay perks up. “Keith works here as well? He's the best pilot in our year.”

“So I've heard. How are you liking your classes so far?” he asks.

The two of them continue chatting until Hunk bursts in, face flushed and out of breath. “Sorry, Shiro, I came as fast as I could!” Then his face lights up at the sight of his friend. “Shay, you're here!”

“Hunk! I was just talking to Shiro about our class.”

They hug and Hunk steps back. “Sorry I'm so gross right now. I ran all the way here. And thanks for your help, Shiro. You totally saved our hides, man. C’mon, I'll make you guys this new drink I just came up with.” There’s a pause when he looks over at the mess on the counter. “Wait, did someone use the espresso machine?”

Guiltily, Shiro hides his cup behind his back and smiles sheepishly when Shay starts giggling.

\--

“I'm surprised I haven't run into this Keith person I keep hearing about yet,” Shiro says conversationally over a cup of coffee. “I'm buying his plants but I’ve still only ever talked to him over the phone that one time. It’s making me curious.”

Coran turns around and glances over at him with an arched brow. “It _is_ uncanny that your schedules were completely opposite. I think there’s a pretty good chance you'll run into him this semester,” he says.

“I think you two would get along,” Allura says. “He's got a bit of a temper but he's a good person and a hard worker. I see a lot of potential in him.”

He arches a brow and takes a slow sip of his drink. “Well, that's a glowing review from you if I've ever heard one. Maybe he'll be able to teach me more about how he takes care of his plants.”

It'd make for a great conversation piece with his roof-mate, he notes to himself.

Allura perks up and walks over to a shelf in the back room and starts looking for something. When she returns, she has a thin binder in her hands. “You’re in luck. I had Keith write out some plant-care tips for our most popular items. Here, you can take a look. Of course, it’s nowhere as good as having him here to explain things to you, but it’s a start.”

Shiro smiles and takes the binder. “Thanks a lot. I’m still a novice so anything helps.”

He leafs through page after page of carefully written, detailed instructions and blinks when he gets a nagging feeling in the back of his mind at the familiarity of it.

“Is something wrong?” Coran asks, concerned. “Is it the coffee? I knew the deal I cut with that Unilu was too good to be true!”

“No, the coffee’s perfect,” he replies quickly. Then he pauses and looks down at his cup, wondering exactly what kind of bargain Coran had cut and with whom. “What’s an ‘Unilu’? Should I be worried?”

Allura shrugs and looks over at Coran, who slams a fist onto the counter dramatically. “Never bargain with an Unilu!”

At this point, Shiro sets his drink down and eyes it suspiciously.

“The Unilu,” Coran continues, “are traders and pirates that roam the seas and deal in black market goods. Anything you want, they’ll have. Of course, you have to bargain. No one can bargain like the Unilu. Last time, I ended up…”

Shiro ends up so caught up in the story that he completely forgets about the binder.

He also ends up leaving the rest of his coffee unfinished because he found out exactly what ‘Teludav’ coffee was and where in a ‘Weblum’ the ‘scaultrite’ beans came from.

\--

Another week passes and he still doesn’t get to meet this mysterious ‘Keith’ figure. He even went out of his way to drop by the cafe at least once a day. Most of the time he doesn't think about it, but during those times where he gets a moment to himself, his curiosity inevitably returns—like right now, when he's crouching in front of his plants and checking the dirt.

Matt calls it ‘obsessing’ and a ‘bad habit’ that he should probably get ‘under control’, but Matt is also the guy who will stay up for days on end trying to answer questions he thought up in a dream, so Shiro doesn't feel particularly obliged to listen to his advice.

Sighing to himself and setting the empty watering can onto the ground, he looks at Yellow and says, “Maybe this is all some elaborate prank they set up to make me question my sanity.”

But then he remembers that one time they tried to prank him at the cafe and how hard Lance and Hunk struggled to keep a straight face. And anything Pidge is on, Matt is sure to be privy to. “Or not. I guess I don't really have to worry about that. They’re good kids.”

Shiro shakes the thoughts out of his head and stands back up. Noticing a slight twinge in his back, he takes a deep breath and starts stretching out his shoulders. There's a slight breeze in the evening air and it's the perfect temperature to do some light exercise so he decides to go through his usual stretch routine.

He’s in the middle of doing a handstand when he hears a gasp come from the door. Startled and unable to see who his unexpected visitor is through his shirt, Shiro loses his balance and topples over; but just as he does so, he hears, “The plants!” and manages to tilt himself the other way at the last second and crashes into something on his way down.

After a dazed moment, Shiro sits up and yanks his shirt back down and glances over at the plants, letting out a breath of relief when he sees that they’re unharmed. Then he looks down and sees his legs draped over something, or rather, some _one_.

“Oh geez, I’m really sorry,” Shiro exclaims, lifting his legs and rolling to the side to get off the other. “Are you alright?”

The person on the ground sits up with a groan. He's a young man with striking eyes and short black hair, a little messily cut. “I'm fine. You didn't knock over anything, did you?”

Shiro chuckles apologetically and gets up, offering a hand to the boy. “Only you, I'm afraid.”

Accepting his hand, the stranger allows himself to be pull up to his feet. “Do you make it a habit of doing handstands by the plants?” the other asks with narrowed eyes.

“No, I promise you I don’t,” Shiro replies, in what he hopes is a placating manner. Then, studying the younger man curiously, he asks, “I take it you’re my plant mentor?”

A shrug. “I guess if you want to call it that. My name’s Keith Kogane,” he introduces himself.

Several things click in his head at once and he can’t help but point at Keith as he exclaims, “You’re ‘Keith’? Like Cafe Altea ‘Keith’? _And_ ‘Kogane’ like at the garrison? I can’t believe it was the same person all along.”

Keith furrows his brows in confusion. “Have we met?”

“We haven’t, but I’ve heard a lot about you. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself first,” Shiro says, extending his hand. “I’m Takashi Shirogane but most people just call me Shiro.”

They shake hands. Keith looks deep in thought for a moment and then blinks and stares at him like he grew a third eye. “Wait, you’re Shiro? Like, the _top pilot_ at Galaxy Garrison who’s broken every record ever set? _That_ Shiro?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that's me?”

Scowling, Keith mutters, “So _that’s_ why Lance wouldn’t shut up about how he sold one of the things he painted to a supposedly famous person. I didn’t think it was yours.”

Shiro laughs and shrugs. “He sold me with his painting skills and enthusiasm.”

“Like I said, your taste is questionable at best,” Keith says, making a face—though he can't hide the smile in his voice.

He gets a feeling they’ll get along just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All art in this chapter was done by the very talented [glyphhunter](https://glyphhunter.tumblr.com/)!

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

After trading schedules and numbers (although Keith is notoriously bad at answering texts), the two of them start meeting up on the roof to trade tips on piloting and plants. Not wanting to draw attention to themselves at the garrison (or stay any longer than necessary), they’ve also taken to sparring on the roof. To Shiro’s delight, Keith is sharp and quick-witted and it doesn’t take very long for the two of them to set their own pace. There were still a few topics neither of them were ready to bring up yet, but they’ll get there.

“Wait, what are you doing? That’s hardly enough fertilizer for that one.”

He sits back and cocks his head to the side. Picking up the bottle of plant food, he flips it around and double checks the writing on the back. “But the instructions on the package say…”

Keith shakes his head. “Under normal circumstances that’d be enough but not for this one. You want it to,” he waves his hand in a gesture Shiro doesn’t quite understand, “don’t you?”

“Grow?” Shiro guesses, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Has anyone ever told you that your written instructions are way better than your verbal ones?”

With an indignant huff, Keith crosses his arms. “Whatever! You understood what I meant, didn’t you?”

“It’s a skill I honed as an assistant instructor,” Shiro explains easily. “When you have to try to answer questions that are more gestures than words, you learn. You just have to be patient. Patience yields focus.”

That earns him a long stare from Keith, who eventually shrugs it off and returns to tending to their newest plant, a miniature tree in a white and baby blue pot. “You’re such an instructor sometimes. This is why I’m not the customer service person.”

\--

“Is there something on my face?” Shiro asks, side-glancing at his friend. Having been let out of class early, they’re on their way to Cafe Altea since Matt wanted to take a quick detour to pick up Pidge on the way home. And not one to pass up an opportunity for coffee, Shiro decided to tag along.

Matt shakes his head and continues walking. “No, you’re looking way too happy again. I was trying to figure out if it was because of dogs or plants.”

Shiro laughs and elbows his friend lightly. “Neither? Both? Dogs in general and the plants are doing great, but I’m mostly just looking forward to Hunk’s coffee. He came up with these daily specials and I’ve been trying to try all of them. Oh, and Keith said I could help paint some of the pots next time.”

“That’s pretty amazing progress considering how you were ‘curious’ and obsessing over finding out who he was just a couple of weeks ago,” Matt points out.

He scoffs and retorts, “I wouldn’t call it obsessing compared to you and your chart readings and roping your dad into helping you. I couldn’t reach you for a _week_ , remember? I had to find out about it from Pidge. Whatever happened with that project anyway?”

Matt perks up and Shiro knows he’s in for a rant beyond his understanding, but he does his best to listen to his friend excitedly explain his findings with animated hand gestures.

“So my sister asked me something about sustaining life in harsh environments and it got me thinking, right?” Most of the mathematical stuff escapes him, but he’s able to grasp the basics of the science behind Matt’s theory. “...if our readings are already this high, can you imagine what it’d be like to actually collect samples _from_ the site? It’d be like a dream come true! So my dad and I are putting together a grant proposal now to do further research on it and if we’re lucky, they’ll permit us to do a site visit!”

Smiling, he gives his friend a supportive pat on the back as they arrive at the cafe. “I’m really excited for you, Matt. I hope you get it. Wouldn’t a site visit be kind of dangerous though? The whole area’s still a war zone right now.”

The little bell on the door rings as they enter. “I don’t think it’d be that bad,” Matt replies. “Our site visit wouldn’t be anywhere close to where the fighting is. It’s actually an abandoned archaeological site and the closest village is five hours away by car. It’d just be dropping in, grabbing the samples we need, and then leaving right after. As long as we have a pilot there with us for a speedy extraction, the risks are next to nothing. Trust me; we’ve ran the numbers.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “Of course you have. That’s good to hear though. I’m sure you’ll get that grant. No one’s ever been able to keep a Holt from their research and dirt samples.”

They grab a table and Shiro looks over at the counter and waves at Hunk, who beams and runs over to greet them. “Hey Shiro and Pidge’s brother,” Hunk says, taking a notebook out of his apron pocket. “So what can I get you guys?”

“Pidge’s brother?” Shiro asks, amused.

Matt sighs. “Yeah, they use my sister as a point of reference here.”

As though to prove his point, the bell rings again and Lance steps in just in time to start his shift. “Oh hey, it’s Shiro and Tall Pidge!” Shiro lets out a startled cough in a poor attempt to mask his laughter. “I’ll be right back, guys. I have to go let Pidge know I’m here and to let the princess know that her knight in shining armour’s finally returned.”

“Good luck with that, dude,” Hunk tells him. “Don’t forget that she’s a martial arts master and try not to get fired!”

Lance gives an exaggerated shrug. “What? Who would fire _this_ handsome thing? The shop would go out of business.”

“Behold, ladies and gentlemen, my best friend,” Hunk mutters with a chuckle. “So have you decided on your order?”

“I’ll have a slice of Lance’s self-confidence, please,” Matt lets out a mock-sigh.

Hunk shakes his head. “Sorry, bro, we haven’t figured out how to package that particular item yet. You might want to check back in the fall. There’s a good chance it’ll come with a bonus Lance though if Allura has anything to say about it.”

“And he’ll be returned the next day if _I_ have anything to say about it,” Pidge says, coming out from the back with a look of disapproval on her face. “We already have Gunther. One pet around the house is more than enough.”

Matt laughs. “Looks like I’ll just have to settle for a medium latte to go then.”

\--

“Bad move,” Shiro says with a laugh, stepping back to dodge a punch. Grinning at the opening, he quickly parries the next blow and feigns a punch. With his opponent thrown off kilter, he moves in and pokes the other in the cheek.

Another win for him.

“You got impatient again, Keith. If you’d delayed that by half a second to tuck your other arm in, your side wouldn’t have been exposed. Your speed and instincts are great, but the rest still needs work. Remember: patience yields focus.”

Keith purses his lips and swats his hand away, sulking. “You always say that, but what am I supposed to focus on exactly?”

“Well, right now, you want to focus on your posture. You should’ve learnt the basics by now, right? Focus on those and getting them right until it becomes natural to you, and then that’s when you can start relying on your instincts more while knowing that your training won’t fail you. This,” he says, poking at Keith’s arm, “you need to tuck this one back in after a punch or your ribs will be exposed.”

“Patience yields focus,” Keith mutters to himself, eyebrows knit in concentration.

“That’s right. Just try to keep that in mind and you’ll improve.” Shiro rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly. “Sorry, did I go into instructor-mode again?”

Keith shrugs and bends his knees and raises his fists. “Whatever helps me beat you at the end of the day, _sir_.”

A jolt of excitement runs down his spine as he lowers himself into a defensive stance. “End of the day, huh? You’re still a decade too early to beat me at hand-to-hand, cadet.”

They go another two rounds when Keith throws one punch after the other, leaving his side exposed again. He may be a fast learner, but still too impatient. Deciding to call it a day, Shiro smiles and goes to poke the other’s ribs when Keith suddenly ducks away and tries to land a kick on him. Reflexes kicking in, he takes a step back to dodge, his back hitting the door. Blocking another blow and parrying the next, he continues defending until Keith, now panting, throws out a sloppy punch. Without missing a beat, Shiro reaches out and flicks his sparring partner’s nose.

Keith immediately steps back and rubs his nose with a scowl. “Seriously, can’t you just win like a normal person?”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” Shiro teases. “I never get to do this when I’m teaching.”

“I’ll get you next time.”

Shiro smiles and shrugs. “Maybe you actually will. You’re a fast learner, Keith. Using your earlier mistake as bait to lure me into attacking? That was impressive. Here,” he says, tossing him a water bottle and grabbing a towel for himself. “Let’s call it a day. I heard there’s supposed to be a bit of a rainstorm tonight. Nothing too terrible.”

Arching a brow, Keith takes a long gulp of water before asking, “A rainstorm? Aren’t we in the middle of the desert? Will we be okay?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Even deserts have storms,” he says. “I guess you must’ve just moved here for your first year, huh? This is a pretty temperate desert and we're way over towards the edge of it, so we get rainstorms here a few times a year.” He points up at the sky. “Look, the rain clouds are already gathering and you can feel it in the air, can’t you?”

“Is that what it is? I thought it was just the humidity. I was in a small town before this place. The kind that’s in the middle of nowhere. There were storms, but they mostly dust storms,” Keith says nonchalantly.

Shiro’s ears perk up—this being the first time Keith’s talked about himself so openly. But before their conversation can progress any further, without any warning, the sky rips open and it begins pouring.

“C’mon, we have to get the plants inside!” Keith yells at him over the downpour.

Snapping out of his stupor, he quickly runs over and grabs Green off its stand while Keith takes Blue. “Where should I put it?”

“Doesn't matter. We can move them again after! Let's just get them under cover first,” Keith replies.

They set the plants down on the top landing inside the entranceway and quickly go to move White and Yellow together. After setting Yellow down, the two of them go to get the last two when a sudden strong gust of wind slams the door to the roof shut.

Standing there with Red in his arms, Shiro gapes. The door stopper must've gotten loose when he bumped into it during the spar. “Oh no…”

With Black in one arm, Keith turns to the door only to realize that there's no knob on its exterior. He turns to him with a frown and asks, “Shiro, what do we do now?”

He takes a quick scan of the area to assess their situation and it becomes immediately obvious that short of repelling down the building, there's no way out. Walking over to the narrow overhang to get what little shelter he can, Shiro whips the towel off his shoulders and wrings it out and wraps it around the trunk of the tree to cover the soil.

Seeing his actions, Keith follows suit with his jacket and sits down, crossing his legs around Black. Already soaked through and through, Keith shivers and looks over. “Good thinking. At least the other plants are all safe. How are we going to get back inside though?”

With the emergency now temporarily averted, Shiro kicks his shoes and socks off and takes a seat next to Keith with his legs stretched out, wiggling his toes as the rain hits his feet. No socks were better than wet socks.

He pulls out his phone from his pocket and smiles. “Now? Pick a friend. Any friend. I bet mine will get here faster than yours—unless you're calling Pidge in which case it’ll probably be a draw because I'm calling Matt.” Then he asks, “You _did_ bring your phone up, didn't you?”

“I think so?” Digging around his jacket pockets, now covered in dirt, Keith pulls out his phone with a triumphant “Ah-ha!”

“Great. We'll call at the same time and see who wins then,” Shiro says. “Ready?”

“What if they don't pick up?” Keith asks seriously.

He laughs at how unnecessarily competitive this was becoming. “Then I hope you have your number two on speed dial.”

Keith nods. “You're on.”

The two of them dial and hold their breaths. _“Hello?”_

“Matt! Need some help here, bud.”

“Hunk? I'm stuck on the roof. Can you swing by my place and help me out?”

They glance at each other briefly before passing the instructions onto their respective friend and hanging up to wait. Shiro glances over. “I’m surprised. Why Hunk?”

“Because he’s off today and I thought this should be fair. If I really wanted to win, I would’ve called Coran. Even if he was on the other side of the world, he’d still beat Big Pidge.”

Shiro laughs. “Fair point. Was Lance your backup then?”

Keith makes a face of extreme disapproval and it fills Shiro with a strange sense of fondness. “No. Allura was. At least her lectures have an end to them. Lance would never let me live it down. He’ll probably find out about this anyway, but I’d never give him the satisfaction of being witness to it.”

“Words of a close friend if I’ve ever heard them,” he teases.

With a huff, Keith looks away. “Close? As if. He’s the kind of guy you would simultaneously take a bullet for _and_ use as a human shield.”

Shiro furrows his brows bemusedly and laughs. “Conflicting feelings, huh?” Turning his gaze skyward, he asks, “So you’ve never had rainstorms like this before? This one will probably end by tomorrow. I used to live in this city right by the mountains. There were years where we got more rain than sunshine.”

“That sounds kind of nice, I guess. Compared to where I grew up anyway. It was even drier than here so rain was something that only happened every other decade or something like that. All our water had to be piped in from some faraway place or we never would’ve survived. I used to get yelled at for using too much water to water my garden.”

He sits up in attention. “You started gardening as a kid? That’s adorable!”

Keith shakes his head with a chuckle. “I _tried_. I didn’t know much about it and couldn’t get anything to grow into anything beyond sprouts. After a while, watering the plants got tedious and I remember wishing it’d rain. Of course, when you’re in an area that dry, when it _does_ rain, it floods everything and shows up on the news as a ‘disaster area’. I’ve only ever seen it once. I remember thinking that the orphanage would get washed away for good and we’d all be adopted by well-meaning people all over the country.

“Obviously, that didn’t happen,” he scoffs, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Well, the orphanage did get washed away along with my garden, but they sent those of us left behind to some military school looking for recruits instead of homes.”

“Is that where you learnt to fly?” Shiro asks gently.

Keith shrugs nonchalantly. “I may or may not have broken into the flight sim room and stolen school vehicles to practice. That’s where I learnt about growing plants too, actually. There may still be a few books missing from their library. Coran’s right; it’s all about care and maintenance…you’re not gonna narc on me, are you?”

“Wasn’t planning on it—promise,” he replies solemnly, drawing a cross over his heart. “Besides, it’s a little too late for them to take away your title of ‘Best First Year Pilot’, don’t you think? I’m not saying I approve of the things you did, but I also think you were in a pretty rough situation and looking at the person you’ve become, the Keith that _I’ve_ come to know, I think it speaks a lot to your growth and how you’ve changed.”

Incredulous, Keith asks, “The person I’ve become?”

“Sure. You’re a great botanist and gardener, you earned yourself an amazing scholarship through practice and dedication which made you the best pilot in your year, and you’re working at a great place with people who love and support you,” he says, counting the items off on his fingers. “You’re smart, you’re brave, you’re independent, your instincts are sharp, you’re incredibly strong to have made it this far without faltering, and I’m really glad I got to know you. Need I go on?”

Cheeks quickly reddening, Keith frowns and shakes his head, holding his hands up to block his face. “Stop. No more, _please_. I have no idea who that person you’re describing is. I’m just me.”

“You don't give yourself enough credit,” he says with a laugh.

“Says the pot to the kettle.” There’s a pause as he draws his legs up to his chest to hide his face. “…hey, Shiro?”

He smiles and tilts his head towards the other boy. “What is it, Keith?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask… Not that I’m not enjoying it, but why are you hanging out with me? You’re so… _brilliant_ ,” he asks curiously. “I may have a reputation for piloting but not for socializing.”

Shiro shoots him a wry smile. “You’re socializing right now, aren’t you? I’ve been in that position. Am I everything you thought I'd be?”

Contemplating the question, Keith shakes his head. “Not really. But then again, I don’t think anyone expects to have their noses flicked by the top pilot of the garrison.”

He grins and holds a finger out to his lips. “That’s special treatment. Don't let the others know. You're not what I was expecting either, but I’ve learnt that it’s better to get to know people by actually taking the time to talk to them. They’re like your sprouts. They won’t just grow overnight. And when they do grow, they normally surprise you in the best way possible.”

“Care and maintenance, hmm?”

Laughing, he claps the other on the shoulder warmly. “Something like that.”

He’s about to say something else when the door bursts open and Lance, soaked to the bone, a little out of breath, and sporting the largest grin he’s ever seen, pops out with an “Oh my god, Keith, I overheard Hunk’s conversation and heard you were trapped up on the roof and there was _no way_ I was gonna miss something like _this_! Wait, huh? What’s Shiro doing here?”

The two of them sit there, stunned for a moment before turning to each other and grinning. “I guess it’s a tie.”

Keith shrugs and stands up, tugging uncomfortably at his clothes. “At least we can finally change into something dry.” Then he looks up at Lance and says, “Hey doofus, you do realize that the second you opened the door, we weren’t trapped anymore, right? So you technically did miss it.”

Lance gapes before gasping indignantly. “That’s not true! I was still witness to your cry for help! There's no way I missed it! How dare—I had to run up four flights of stairs for this!”

“Yeah, and thanks for coming so quickly. I never knew you cared that much,” Keith says with a perfectly straight face.

Before Lance can sputter a reply, Shiro steps in. “C’mon, don’t tease him so much now, Keith. He _did_ rescue us.”

With his hands in the air in exasperation, Lance turns back around and calls down the stairwell to where Hunk and maybe Matt probably are, “Can you believe this, Hunk? We come all this way and run up so many flights of stairs and what do we get? ‘ _Thanks for coming so quickly. I never knew you cared that much._ ’”

“Is that a bad thing? It sounded kinda sweet, or was it sarcastic? I couldn’t really hear,” Hunk asks from down the stairs.

Keith wrinkles his nose. “I don’t sound like that.”

Lance makes a face and continues in the same voice, “‘ _I’m Keith. I don’t sound like that._ ’”

“Hey now, why don’t you guys come to my place for hot chocolate and to dry off? It’s only three floors down compared to Keith’s five,” he offers, cutting in.

Distracted, Lance’s eyes widen with delight. “Seriously? Dude, we get to check out _Takashi Shirogane_ ’s apartment? Hunk, get your gorgeous face back down those stairs! We’re going to Shiro’s place to hang!”

There’s a groan. “What? Dude, after I came up all this way? You can just stay down there, Pidge’s Brother. Looks like we’re going to Shiro’s place.”

“Looks like I would’ve won the bet,” Keith mentions offhandedly, Black back in his arms.

Picking up his shoes and Red with one hand, Shiro shrugs. “Maybe you would’ve.” A pause. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

He offers his free hand. “Thanks for trusting me with this. I’m here to talk anytime—or to spar, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Keith considers his hand for a moment before shifting his hold on the plant to free up his hand to clasp it. “I know.”

“And I meant what I said. You’re an amazing person, Keith. I’m so glad I met you and I just _know_ you’re going to do great things in the future.”

“Now you’re actively trying to embarrass me.” But then his eyes soften, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he nods. “I’ll keep trying my best. Thanks, Shiro. Your words mean a lot to me.”

Watching everyone disappear down the stairs, he snaps out of his daze and quickly goes to set Red down inside. Taking his towel off and wringing it out, he’s glad to see that the soil only damp and nothing more. “Care and maintenance, hmm?” he mutters quietly to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Another sigh.

He looks up from his reports. “What’s wrong, sir?”

Iverson doesn’t reply immediately, instead, opting to let out yet another sigh.

“Is it that cadet again?” Shiro guesses a little warily.

“Yeah, it’s that cadet again.” The instructor scowls. “He did a backflip in his hand-to-hand today and now I have to file reports for two other donkeys who sprained their wrists trying to copy him.”

Shiro keeps his head down and his eyes on his report to hide his smile. He didn’t expect Keith to use that move in class so quickly having just learnt it last week. “A backflip, huh? I wonder where he picked that up from,” he muses, feigning innocence.

“Hell if I know. I was going to grill him on his posture,” Iverson tells him. “It used to be so sloppy, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t have perfect form now—backflip and all.”

“I bet he worked really hard to improve his form. It sounds like he’s doing well.” He manages to keep the pride out of his voice but only barely.

Iverson crosses his arms. “Like I said, he’s got promise if only he’d _listen_ every now and then. Now that I think about it, his tactics are starting to remind me of yours.”

“Oh?” With his phone in his lap, he’s already half-finished texting Keith about this. “Is that a good thing or bad?”

“I haven’t decided. Well, as long as he doesn’t team up with the top science kid in his year to wreak havoc, I think I’ll manage,” Iverson grumbles, eyeing him pointedly.

At this, Shiro can’t help but laugh. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

\--

Whatever grew between them on that rainy day has only continued growing at an expedited rate ever since. They continue meeting regularly on their roof and occasionally in the cafe, the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable.

Then one day, Keith offhandedly mentions that he’s been eating nothing but instant noodles since he entered the academy—except for those days where Hunk gently but firmly feeds him and forces the leftovers on him, which is happening now more often than not.

Shiro gapes. “That’s pretty understandable because nothing but _instant noodles_?”

Arching a brow, Keith nods and points at him. “Yeah, that’s the exact face Hunk made too. It’s not a big deal; I just don’t like cooking and it’s too tedious to go all the way back to the garrison to eat cafeteria food. Wait, don’t tell me you’re going to force feed me too.”

“As tempted as I am, that’s not what I’m going to do,” he says slowly.

Keith narrows his eyes in suspicion. “But?”

“But what I _am_ going to do is invite you to dinner at my place. We can split the grocery bill. I’ve been a student long enough to know how to make a cheap and decent meal with things like, you know, _nutrients_.” When he sees the other hesitating, he adds, “This is an open invite. You don’t have to accept by any means, but I’d welcome the company and you can bring your textbooks and we can study together too.”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Keith glances around, still uncertain. “I’ll be paying half of the bill?”

He shrugs. “If you can.”

“Money’s not the problem. My scholarship has a weekly allowance. I’d rather pay for half of it than being given it for free like with Hunk—no matter how good it tastes,” Keith mutters.

Shiro can feel his mouth watering a little at the mention of Hunk’s meals. “I don’t even know what he made you, but I bet it was amazing. I can cook but I’m no gourmet chef. Sorry, but you’ll have to settle for pasta or stir-fry.”

“That’s fine. At least I won’t feel bad about eating it,” Keith says with an easy shrug. “Besides, I have a lot of shifts with Hunk this semester. He always lets me taste test his creations.” He must’ve been openly drooling because Keith continues, “If you want, I can save you one next time.”

Grinning, he nods. “I won’t say no to that. We can have it for dessert. C’mon, all this talk of food is making me hungry. Why don’t we head down and you can get a taste of my cooking and see if it’s to your standards.”

The two of them go back down to his apartment where he takes out the ingredients and starts preparing dinner. Watching from the counter stool, Keith glances over at the fridge as the door swings close and notes, “I didn’t know you drank.”

“Oh, the beer? I drink on the weekend sometimes. Nothing too crazy and never before a flight sim,” he says, bringing the pot of water to a boil on the stove.

Keith leans forward, eyes bright with interest; any reservation he previously had around Shiro long since disappeared. “I’m sensing a story here.”

Shiro laughs as he recalls the tale. “In my first year at the garrison, me and a couple of my friends snuck into a bar and it happened to be a leap year that year, right? Well, my birthday’s on leap year day so my friends made a big deal of it and long story short, literally everyone in that bar ended up buying me a drink or two.” He glances over at the curious look on the other’s face. “No, I didn’t even get _close_ to finishing it all. Anyway, I completely forgot that I had a flight sim test the next day. Looking back now, I’m surprised I was able to get out of bed let alone make it to class on time.”

Nodding sympathetically, Keith mutters, “Talk about dedication.”

“Yeah, let’s call it that. It definitely wasn’t my fear of Iverson back in first year,” he chuckles. Taking his stirring spoon out of the pot, he holds it out for the other boy to try. “Here, give the sauce a taste.”

Keith blows on the spoon and gives it a nibble. “Not bad. I’ll bring you some fresh herbs from our little orange pot at the shop next time. I wanted to bring it here but Hunk has monopoly over it.”

“You’d be doing the whole city a disservice by taking it away from him,” Shiro says seriously.

A nod. “Agreed. Now back to your story. What happened next with the flight sim?”

Pleased that Keith is so interested in his tale, he continues, “I got really lucky that day because Iverson picked my team to go first. At that point, the hangover was so bad that I just wanted to get the test over as fast as possible and go curl up and die somewhere. I don’t remember very much other than us clearing it and me running straight to the bathroom afterwards to throw up. When I got back, everyone was staring at me. I thought I was busted but it turned out that we set a new record.”

Jaws agape, Keith stands up and points at him. “ _You_ were the one kid who threw up in your year?”

He rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. “You heard about it from Pidge, huh? Yeah, that was me.”

Keith pauses for a moment, looking down in thought before gasping. “Wait, you mean all this time, I’ve been trying to beat your _hangover_ score?”

So their rooftop hangouts turn into dinner hangouts as well.

\--

It’s the last few weeks of classes before their final exams and then they’ll officially graduate from Galaxy Garrison, but Shiro finds himself hardly thinking about it at all. He’s walking to his next class with Matt and telling him the most recent rooftop shenanigans he pulled. “…you should’ve seen it! I put these googly eyes on Black and when Keith came up, I was like, ‘ _And I’ll form the head!’_ and I don’t think I’ve never seen him laugh that hard before.”

Looking at the photo on Shiro’s phone, Matt shakes his head with a snicker. “I forget that the pride and joy of Galaxy Garrison is such a giant goober sometimes. You really like him, huh?”

Shiro grins. “Yeah, he's really great. You can tell? Wait, am I being that obvious about it?”

“Well, you’re my closest friend and you make heart eyes like nobody’s business. Not to mention it’s not hard to tell when a guy like you starts talking about a person more than, oh, say, _Gunther_ ,” Matt says, arching a brow. “So are you planning on asking him out?”

He pauses, feeling his ears heat up. It’s something he’s been considering but never thought he'd be asked about it so directly. “Actually, I was thinking—”

Suddenly, there's a loud trill. Matt shoots him an apologetic look and fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, Shiro, it's my dad. Give me two seconds and I'll let you get back to your amazing confession plan.”

“No, no, take all the time you need. Your dad never calls without a good reason,” he says, equally curious to know what's happening.

Matt nods and picks up the phone. “Hi Dad, what's happening? I make no promises...wait, **_what!?_** Is this for real? Oh my god, that's amazing! Okay, uh huh, uh huh...seriously!? Promise me this isn't one of your weird dad jokes? This is going to be the _best_! Here, hold on, let me pass the phone to him.”

Shiro blinks when Matt holds the phone out with an excited grin. He can only assume it's good news when he takes the call. “Hello?”

“ _Shiro, my boy! I've got some exciting news!_ ”

He chuckles. “Hi Professor. I gather from Matt’s gigantic grin that you guys got your research grant?”

 _“It's even better than that,”_ the man says cheerily. _“We got the go-ahead for the site visit too.”_

“Really? That's great to hear! When will you be going?”

_“In about a month, actually. We wanted to move quickly while things are still relatively calm over there.”_

Shiro glances at Matt in surprise. “A month? Right after grad then? Wow, no wonder Matt’s so stoked.”

A chuckle. “ _That's not the only reason. Since it's a garrison grant, they'll also be supplying us with the transport and pilot. Guess who they nominated?”_

He nearly drops the phone in surprise. Fumbling for a moment to get a firm grasp on it, he presses the phone to his ear. “Wait, are you serious? They want _me_ to escort you on your site visit?”

_“They didn’t want to trust this to anyone but the very best. As the garrison’s ace pilot, if you accept, I’ll be able to get the project officially approved in a matter of days. So what do you say, Shiro? Feel like going to Kerberos?”_

Unable to find his words, he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before answering clumsily, “It’d be an honour, sir.”

\--

His mind is whirling through scenario after scenario on how to break the news to Keith and the others. Now that the initial disbelief has worn off, he’s left with excitement and nervousness thrumming through his veins. Although more for science purposes rather than military, this mission will be his first time out in the field and he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t tell Keith soon, especially with him sitting across the table from him eating dinner.

“You ready for the flight sim test?” he asks conversationally to distract himself, not wanting to simply blurt out news this important.

Keith looks up from his meal with a slight start, jolted out of his thoughts. “More like are you ready to kiss your hangover score goodbye.”

“It made for a good story and I’ll be sad to see it go,” he says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “But at least Matt can stop nudging me every time someone brings it up.” He pauses, seeing the concern in the other boy's eyes. “Keith, are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just that I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now, Shiro,” Keith says, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I don’t like carrots.”

Shiro blinks uncomprehendingly for a long second before blurting, “Wait, what? Really? How can you—I _love_ carrots! You’ve been eating them all this time, haven’t you?”

“I wanted to be polite,” Keith admits, poking at the growing pile of orange on his plate with his fork. “I’ve never liked them; raw or cooked. It’s like eating rocks and sticks. By all accounts, people should’ve thought carrots were poisonous when they first saw them. I mean, they’re _orange_.”

The earnest declaration startles a laugh out of him. “They’re good for you, Keith!”

“Too bad none of the nutrients make it taste any better,” Keith retorts, pursing his lips.

“Too bad you’re not the one cooking,” he teases. “Tell you what, if you beat my score, we’ll have a carrot-free week to celebrate, how does that sound?”

Keith pretends to considers this before countering, “Make it a month and it’s a deal.”

“Two weeks and that’s my final offer. Carrots are my favourite,” he retorts.

Wrinkling his nose at him, Keith frowns. “Liar. You’re just saying that because you know I hate them now.”

He tries to stifle his laughter and fails. “That’s not completely true. I really do like carrots! Seeing you make that face just happens to make me like them more.”

They end up compromising with Shiro eating half of Keith’s carrot pile for him. As he does so, he feels a nagging feeling in the back of his mind and frowns in realization. “Oh, right.”

Looking up from what’s left of his meal, Keith asks, “What is it?”

“Those two weeks might have to be split up,” Shiro explains. “We can do the first week but the second week will have to wait till I’m back.”

“Back? From where?”

This wasn’t how he imagined breaking the news, but he’s glad that it came up relatively seamlessly. “Kerberos.”

Keith furrows his brows in disbelief. “Pluto’s moon?”

A wave of affection hits him at the sight of the other boy’s confusion. “No, but I love that that was the first thing you thought of. I’ll be going to Kerberos, the Galra Empire’s ancient capital.”

“Wait, what? Why? When and for how long?”

“I’ll be going with Matt and his dad to escort them to and from the site. We’ll be leaving about a week after grad, but it shouldn’t take any longer than a few weeks—a month max,” he answers.

His words don’t alleviate any of the concern from Keith’s face. “Isn’t it dangerous over there? We’ve been at war with the Galra for _years_ now. Out of all places, why a warzone?”

He smiles ruefully, having expected this reaction. “It’s for a science expedition. Kerberos sits on the outskirts of modern day Galra,” he explains, drawing a map onto the table with his finger. “Most of the fighting is happening closer towards the major cities, so the site’s practically abandoned with the exception of a couple of small towns and villages scattered around the area. These towns are considered neutral zones. They’re just civilians who’re trying to get by. Some of them haven’t been touched by the war and might not even know about it because they’re so isolated.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren't hostile or in cahoots with the Galra,” Keith argues.

“That’s true. We’ve marked them out for emergencies only. Ideally, we’ll be in and out before anyone notices and we’ll have no reason to come into contact with any of them,” Shiro admits. “I do think it’ll be a low risk mission though. I’ll be back before you know it. They never would’ve approved it if it meant putting not one but _two_ Holts in danger.”

“Two Holts and the garrison’s best pilot,” Keith corrects him. Then he adds, “The best pilot for now anyway.”

Shiro takes the light jab as Keith’s way of changing the subject to give himself time to think and decides to play along. “You may beat my hangover score, but just wait until you see my second year record. I had to redo that one, you know?”

Keith’s eyes widen. “Really? You mean you _failed_ it?”

Chuckling at the memory, he nods. “Yeah, Matt hacked the system and changed all the enemy pilots into dogs in sunglasses and I couldn’t bring myself to shoot.”

With an unimpressed face, Keith deadpans, “How have you two _not_ been kicked out of the garrison?”

He grins. “It must be my charm.”

\--

For the most part, everyone reacts with excitement to the news. Lance and Hunk already heard about it from Pidge and barely refrained from yelling the news across the campus (although they were disappointed to find out that they’d be stuck with Iverson again for the next semester), but when he went to tell Allura, it’s her reaction to the news that surprises him the most.

“You can’t go!” Everyone in the café turns to her in surprise and the colour drains from her face. She shakes her head and mutters, “Apologies. Please excuse me.”

It isn’t until Coran quietly tells him about her father, who was lost to the war during a diplomatic visit that he understands. He makes his way to the back and finds her curled up on a workbench with her pet mice around her and sits next to her, keeping his hands folded in his lap. “Allura, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing for my outburst,” she says quietly. “My father believed in peace but the Galra never even gave him a chance. I can’t find it in myself to forgive them. Where you’re going…it’s a dangerous place, Shiro. Please be careful out there. I’d hate for anything to happen to my best customer.”

He shoots her a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Allura, I’ll be back before you know it. And when I’m back, I’ll come by every day to make up for the weeks I missed,” he promises. “Hopefully by then, Keith’s plants will have been transplanted into pots and we can add another one to our rooftop collection.”

Allura returns the smile albeit shakily. “Yes, I remember Lance telling me about your garden on the roof. I’d love to see it. Maybe after you return?”

Shiro nods. “That sounds like a great idea. Once I get back, we can find a nice day and grab a blanket and have a picnic up there with everyone. I’ve been trying to convince Keith to grow vegetables and carrots, so maybe we’ll get to have salad fresh from the garden.”


	6. Chapter 6

The weeks pass by quickly and somewhere in between teaching and attending his own classes, Shiro manages to beat the last record at Galaxy Garrison.

It surprised him when Matt didn’t appear to pull anything, but then he watched the playback of his sim and watched his hot pink plane soar across the sky with  ‘Pride and Joy of the Galaxy’ surrounded by hearts and stars spray-painted on the side and rainbows spewing from the back. Looking closely, he could even see that his friend had replaced the generic pilot avatar with a horrible photo of his face and cropped in a photo of Gunther next to him in the co-pilot seat.

The programmers ran their tests and concluded that other than the playback display, nothing else had been tampered with. So, seeing that his score was already recorded and the only difference was a matter of aesthetics, the instructors begrudgingly rolled their eyes and dismissed them, probably glad to be rid of them within a week.

The graduation ceremony is as monotonous as he imagined it’d be and goes by in a blur. He receives his honours, gives a quick speech, takes a few photos with his friends, and answers a couple of questions for reporters who had heard about his upcoming mission. After the third one, he sneaks off and escapes to the café to avoid further attention.

“Well, if it isn’t the star of the hour,” he hears as soon as he steps in. Looking up, he smiles at the sight of Keith behind the counter. “Looking pretty spiffy in that uniform though your beret’s a little crooked.”

“Oh? You like it? I find it a little hard to run in,” Shiro replies, pleased. He quickly reaches up to fix his beret and makes his way over to the other. “And speaking of star of the hour, I understand that my record was broken this morning. I think you gave Iverson very mixed feelings.”

Keith crosses his arms and scoffs. “I wasn't sure anyone would notice after you went and set your latest ridiculous record in your pinktastic rainbow plane.”

He can’t help but laugh. “You saw the test? Matt outdid himself this year. I thought they’d keep that one on lockdown what with the glitter bombs and horrible theme song playing in the background.”

“They did, but I happen to work with Pidge,” Keith says with a smirk. “Hacking into the garrison archive looked surprisingly easy.”

Shiro shakes his head. “That’s not true. Don’t trust them when they say things are ‘straightforward’. The Holts just make everything look easy because they’re geniuses and I’m pretty sure Iverson will blow his casket if he ever finds out you’re friends with the littlest Holt.” He reaches out and claps Keith on the shoulder and smiles. “But good job on your flight test! I knew you could do it.”

Returning the smile, Keith nods. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you. Now, I believe you owe me a carrot-free dinner from tomorrow onwards.”

He arches a brow. “Tomorrow onwards?”

Just then, the door swings open and Lance and Coran burst in with matching grins on their faces. “There he is, Coran!”

“There he is indeed! Good job distracting him, Number Four! Quickly now, don't let him out of your sight!” Coran shouts back. “Arms ready?”

“Ready!”

“Fire at will!”

Shiro stands there, eyes wide in surprise when the two bring out confetti poppers and fire them at him. “Congratulations!”

Standing behind him, Keith is doubled over in laughter at his reaction. The noise catches the attention of Allura who pokes her head out from the back with a happy smile. “Shiro, you're here! Good job everybody! Hunk and I almost have the food ready and the Holts are on their way.”

Stunned, Shiro looks around in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Did you really think we'd let you graduate in peace?” Keith asks.

“I didn't think…” he starts, still in a daze. The bell to the door jingles and he turns to see the Holt family along with a familiar four-legged sight and beams. “Gunther!”

\--

Walking home from the party with his stomach full of Hunk’s cooking and one of Lance’s extravagant bouquets in his arms, he glances over at Keith, walking by his side with a small plant in his arms sitting snug in a pot Shiro painted weeks earlier.

Shiro sighs happily, “That was the best party I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Keith asks. “Even better than your leap year day party?”

“Well, I’ll remember this one, so that already makes it better,” he replies with a chuckle. “I can’t believe they brought Gunther. I was also surprised by Lance’s family.”

“That was only half his family,” Keith corrects him. “We hosted a birthday party for one of his grandmothers and the whole family showed up. We only just managed to fit them all into the store. Coran hung out with the aunts and grannies and by the end of the night, he knew the names of every member of the family, their dating history, most embarrassing moments, and vaccination records. If you ever hear him talking about Maria, that’s one of Lance’s great-aunt.”

He blinks, the name bringing force a memory. “You mean the one he visited and went in search for the perfect rum with?”

Keith nods. “That’s the one. That’s probably the tamest story he has with her. He never told you about the time they had to swim out of a whirlpool?”

“What? No, tell me.”

Arriving at their apartment building, they step inside and wait for the elevator as Keith regales him with Coran’s story. They’re half way up when Keith finishes with, “...and he claims that’s how he learnt to surf.”

Shiro narrows his eyes in incredulity. “I don’t know if I believe that one.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but he had the pictures to prove it,” Keith tells him. When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, he glances down at the plant in his arms and says, “It’s getting late. Why don’t I take this one to the roof to join the others in the morning?”

“If you don’t mind. I’ll see you up there tomorrow,” Shiro agrees.

As the doors slide shut, Keith turns around and smiles. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Star Pilot.”

Staring at the closed metal doors where the other was a mere second ago, Shiro holds a hand up to his chest and mutters, “...that can't be good for my heart.”

\--

He gets a call from the garrison at eight in the morning. At his new orders, Shiro jumps out of bed, showers, and hastily throws his uniform on. He digs his pack out from his closet and shoves his necessities into it and slings it over his shoulder. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he goes around and checks his faucets and stove one last time before locking his apartment up and leaving.

Instead of going to the elevator, Shiro runs down the stairs to Keith’s floor and knocks on the door to his apartment.

No answer.

Turning his head skyward and silently groaning to himself, he inhales deeply and makes his way back up the stairs to the roof. When he steps through the door, he sees the latest addition to their garden sitting next to White and Keith leaning against the ledge among the plants, sipping his coffee and reading a guide to gardening.

“Keith…” he says breathlessly.

Turning around in surprise, Keith furrows his brows at the sight of him. “Shiro? What’s wrong? Why are you dressed like that…?”

“I got new orders,” he explains, and he can barely hear anything over his heart pounding in his ears. “The situation’s changed. I leave today. I…” came to say goodbye, he doesn’t say. “I came to let you know.”

Keith straightens up and walks over to him, leaving his drink and book on the ledge. “When do you have to go?”

Shiro frowns. “ _Now_.”

He makes his way back down to the top floor to call the elevator with Keith following closely behind him with increasing concern. “What do you mean the situation’s changed? Did the war spread again? They can’t be sending you still, can they?”

Smiling what he hopes is a reassuring smile, he clasps the other boy’s shoulder. “I don’t think it’s anything that bad yet,” he says, unable to divulge any further information. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”

As the elevator nears the top floor, he unfolds his beret and puts it on. There’s a slight tug on his sleeve. “Shiro, promise me you’ll be careful out there.”

The fear and concern in Keith’s voice makes his smile soften into something more genuine. “A month, tops. You guys don’t call me the star pilot for nothing. Make sure you take care of our garden for me until I get back,” Shiro says as the elevator door opens. He steps in and turns around. “And Keith?”

Despite the deep frown on his face and his obvious displeasure at the situation, Keith answers without hesitation, “What is it?”

He reaches out and cups the other’s face. “When I come back, there’s something I want to ask you so wait for me, okay?”

Then, just as quickly, he retracts his hand and watches the doors slide close—only to have it open again. With a scowl, Keith reaches into the carriage and pulls him down by the collar and plants a kiss on his lips. “If it’s what I think it is, you better hurry back so I can say yes!”

With that declaration, Keith steps back and salutes him, and as the doors close, he manages to snap out of his stupor to grin and return the gesture.

Outside the apartment, he steps into their transport vehicle to find Matt and his father already inside, looking equal parts excited and nervous. Up in the front, Iverson is complaining loudly about being woken up so suddenly to be a chauffeur, but Shiro barely registers the words. Absentmindedly touching a finger to his lips, he looks back at the apartment building until it fades out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

By the end of the next day, they arrive at the aircraft base closest to the site sitting just outside of Galra territory. Without any preamble, they’re brought into a boardroom and debriefed immediately. The weather had changed for the worse with violent sandstorms kicking up around the site. The storms could be used to their advantage if they move fast enough or it could be detrimental to their success if the small window of time is missed.

“You’re the one who’ll be piloting. It’s up to your judgement whether or not you want to take the risk,” the major says, turning to Shiro. “There haven’t been any sightings of hostiles in the area yet, but our intel suggests that the Galra are planning to take back Kerberos as a symbolic capture within the next year, so after this, there won’t be any more chances until this damn war is over.”

“But there might not be anything to find by then!” Matt protests.

Unsympathetically, the major shakes his head. “It’s a wonder you even got _this_ chance.”

“Shiro, we’ll defer to your decision,” Sam Holt tells him with a supportive nod.

Swallowing hard, he looks down at the charts and images splayed across the table and studies them, trying to picture what flying into the start of a storm would look like. Then he glances over at Matt’s hopeful expression and his father’s neutral one. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and nods. “I’ve been trained on this aircraft, I know what it can handle. If your predictive models are accurate, I’ll be able to get the Holts in and out well under the allowed time. Let me fly this mission, sir.”

The major studies him closely for a moment. He returns the gaze steadily. Eventually, the man nods. “Understood, permission granted to carry on with your mission. The moment you notice anything astray, you are to turn around and return to base, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. It won’t do if we fly two Holts and Galaxy Garrison’s top pilot from one desert to another only to lose them all to a sandstorm for _dirt samples_. You’ll report to the hangar at 0500. Dismissed.”

As soon as the man steps out of the room, Matt grins and slaps him on the back. “I can’t believe you got him to say yes! Shiro, you’re the best!”

Shiro lets his shoulders relax and smiles. “I couldn’t let you do all that work and come all the way here only to leave without even trying.”

“Thanks, Shiro. If you change your mind, I’ll trust your judgement—no questions asked. If you can’t fly this mission, no one can.” Then, turning to his father, Matt laughs. “Looks like might be going to Kerberos after all, Dad!”

\--

The flight to Kerberos goes without a hitch. They land and he watches Matt dance around atop the ancient site in his protective gear. “According to our maps, the garden area should be right around here! C’mon, Shiro, we’ll need those ridiculous arms of yours!”

“Hey! What's that supposed to mean?”

“Remember, our goal here is to get those samples without disturbing the site or its artifacts,” Sam reminds them.

The wind is starting to pick up speed as they start on their third sample. Doing a quick perimeter check, Shiro’s about to go tell the Holts to not push their luck with a fourth when movement in the distance catches his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he rubs his goggles with his glove to see if something was obstructing his vision.

Nothing.

The figures in the distance move again. Shiro frowns and activates the comms unit in his helmet. “Lion Castle, Lion Castle, this is Paladin One. Come in. Over.”

_“Paladin One, this is Lion Castle. Go ahead. Over.”_

“The storm’s getting worse and I see movement in the distance. Could be hostiles. I’m proceeding with the extraction. Over,” he reports.

_“Roger that. We’ll be on standby. Over.”_

“Roger that.”

Shiro jogs back over to the Holts as the pull out their third sample. “Have you ever seen anything so amazing?” Matt asks, completely immersed in his task.

“No time for that. Take what samples you’ve collected and get back to the plane. We’re leaving,” he orders.

The two Holts immediately stand up and without a word, start packing away their things. Staying close to them, he radios in again. “Lion Castle, all personnel are—” he stops when he sees figures advancing towards them from the distance. “I have potential hostiles approaching. Over.”

_“Paladin One, evacuate immediately. Over.”_

“Roger.” Stepping back, he quickly ushers the other two towards the plane. As soon as they start climbing in, he hops into the pilot seat and is ready to breathe a sigh of relief when he hears a yelp.

“Shiro!”

Turning around, he sees Matt and Sam being dragged out of the hold. “Hostiles confirmed,” he reports quickly as he leaps back out to go help his friends only to have a knife held to his throat. Glancing around, he sees that they’re surrounded by helmeted figures and the Holts nowhere in sight. Slowly, Shiro raises his hands above his head in surrender. “Please, we mean you no harm. We’re here for scientific purposes only. We’re unarmed.”

The figure with the knife says something in a language he's never heard. Another person kicks him from behind, knocking him down to his knees. Somewhere to the back, he can hear people boarding and searching the aircraft.

“We'll cooperate and come peacefully,” he tries. “Just please don't hurt them.”

A little ways away, muffled by the quickly approaching sandstorm, he hears a panicked cry, “Shiro!”

He jerks up at the cry. “Matt!”

Suddenly, there's yelling and a sharp blow to the back of his neck.

The world goes dark before he even hits the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

The cheer from the crowd around him is deafening but so distant. He feels numb, like he's watching the scene through the eyes of another person. There's an unmoving body on the ground in front of him. Looking down, he slowly raises his hands. The blade slips from his blood-slick fingers—

His eyes snap open and with a gasp, he tries to sit up only to find his arms bound to the metal rails of a bed and an IV line embedded in his skin. Panic wells up inside him and he starts struggling, trying to free himself.

No, he can't go through it again.

Somewhere in that brightly lit, sterile room, a machine starts beeping frantically and someone is yelling something. A figure approaches him and he pulls harder, hearing something crack.

Before he can break free, a rush of sedatives courses through him. The panic doesn't go away, but his limbs stop listening and his vision blurs.

“N-no...no more…”

The world goes black once more.

\--

When he comes to again, the world comes into focus sluggishly. Despite the urge to stretch and groan, he remains still and doesn't make a sound.

He knows better than to draw attention to himself like that.

Eyes flickering, he studies the room he's been brought to. There are windows with sunlight streaming in through the blinds. The fluorescent lights are too bright, and the walls too white—too clean. Next to him, machines beep and click at a steady pace. Turning his head, he blinks in confusion when he realizes that there's a pillow cushioning his head.

Definitely not the room then.

He tries to raise a hand to help himself sit up but finds them still tied down. So it wasn't a dream.

There's a quiet gasp nearby and the curtains next to him is pulled open, the metallic sound of rings sliding against the pole causing him to flinch. The machine next to him starts beeping faster.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that,” the woman says worriedly. Her hands are raised reflexively to help (or hurt, his mind supplies) but thankfully, she quickly lowers them and maintains her distance. “How are you feeling?”

There's a moment of silence as he studies her in distrust. “...where am I?” he asks eventually, forcing himself to swallow down his panic.

Unfazed by the pause or his scrutiny, the woman smiles patiently. “You're at Galaxy Memorial. You were brought in a few days ago and I’m Florona. I’m the one who’s been monitoring you.”

“...Galaxy…?”

He made it back?

His confusion must be apparent because he's asked, “How much do you remember?”

If he closes his eyes, scattered bits and pieces of memories come to mind. He remembers the cell. The arena. The room. The purple pulsing lights.

Furrowing his brows, he tries to fill in the gaps in his memories. There was a ship and soldiers entering and suddenly he was pinned to the ground and _no one was listening_. He gasps and tugs at his restraints. “The attack! Did you warn the base!?”

“Many of us were skeptical at first, but your intel helped save a lot of lives, soldier,” a new voice joins in. He watches as an older woman strolls in. She had a motherly look about her, but judging by her insignia, she was a colonel. “I am Colonel Ryner. Welcome home, Shirogane.”

Shiro relaxes a little at the news. A sudden thought occurs to him and he glances around the empty room. “If I'm here, then are the Holts also…?”

The colonel shakes her head. “That's one of the things we were hoping you'd have more information about—along with the Blade of Marmora.”

He furrows his brows. “The Blade of Marmora?”

The nurse steps in. “Ma’am, with all due respect, the patient _just_ woke up. Before you run your tests, please let us run ours.”

Unable to sit up, he tilts his head forward and tells Ryner, “I have no information other than what I was able to tell your men. I don’t…I don’t remember everything yet, but if there’s anything I can do to help you find the Holts, please let me do it.”

Ryner regards him for a long moment before smiling a little sadly. “Your nurse is right. You need your rest, soldier. I’ll send for you when she deems you fit for duty.”

Without waiting for an answer, the colonel leaves the room. Returning to her duties, Florona hurries to his bedside and tugs at the binding around his hand to set his arms free. He immediately moves to sit up despite the nurse’s protest and rubs his wrists and freezes.

Looking at his right arm, instead of his own hand, he sees a metal prosthetic arm, the polish worn with use but still in good condition. Shiro blinks uncomprehendingly for a long moment before taking in a shaky breath and flexing his hand. As though his own, the fingers extend and curl up.

That’s right, his arm was…

“We’ve scanned your arm and it’s been cleared,” Florona tells him gently. “This cybernetic prosthetic is a feat of engineering to be sure, even if the method of attachment was a bit barbaric. The big wigs wanted to remove it to study it but Dr. Slav stopped them. With the way it was attached, it would’ve put your health and safety at risk. He did the math.”

Shiro can feel bile rising in his throat and tries to focus his attention on the spots in the ceiling panels. “I should go see if there’s anything I can help with,” he tries weakly, swallowing down his panic; wanting something to distract himself from the situation.

“You heard the colonel,” Florona replies easily though she keeps her distance from him. “If they needed you that badly, they wouldn’t have let me sedate you twice. Come, sit up a little straighter. I could use your help with some of these tests. Not promising anything, but if everything turns out well, when Dr. Slav comes by, he might even let you get back on your feet for a little while, Shirogane.”

“Just Shiro is fine.” Grateful for the activity, he does as he’s told and sits up as the nurse runs through a couple of routine tests. While waiting for Florona to draw blood samples from his left arm, he glances towards the window where nothing but the blinds stood between him and the desert sun.

At the edge of his mind, he could feel a memory threaten to take shape.

There was never any fresh air or sunlight in the arena.

Quickly shaking his head, he takes another shuddery breath and wills himself to stay calm. Averting his gaze from the window, he looks down and spots a neglected little plant in the corner of the room. At the sight of the struggling plant, the panic recedes and he asks Florona, “Can you please bring that plant a little closer? I’d like to water it.”

Placing the samples into a tray, the nurse smiles and quickly does as he requests, handing him a paper cup filled with water. “Is this enough?”

Shiro nods. “That’s fine for now. Looks like this little guy’s had too much sun.”

“I didn’t take you for a botanist.”

“More like a novice with a hobby. I was taught by someone with a lot more skill than me,” he replies proudly. His thoughts drift to his rooftop where, if he closes his eyes, he can still see Keith standing amidst the plants with his coffee in hand and sunlight basking everything in a warm glow.

He wonders what kinds of new plants he’ll get to see when he goes back. Vaguely, he can remember Keith and Allura discussing different seasonal plants they could try growing to add to their catalogue. They never did settle on a set list when he left. Maybe he’ll find the rooftop overran if Pidge and Hunk’s latest fertilizer formula worked.

Maybe there’ll be carrots.

Looking back at the window, Shiro squints at the shuttered brightness. He wishes he didn’t have to ask, but he had no way of keeping track of time while he was held captive. “What month is it now?”

“It’s August. It’s impossible to tell when you’re in the desert, isn’t it?” Florona answers kindly.

His shoulders sag in relief at the news. “It’s only been two months then? I wasn’t sure.”

At this, the nurse pauses and glances hesitantly at him. Her reluctance has him curling his fingers tightly into the sheets.

“Shiro,” she says softly, carefully gentle; so much so that he can’t help but hold his breath and brace himself for her next words. “You’ve been gone for over a year.”

\--

The next week slips by without his notice. The endless tests and counselling sessions and meetings all blur into one hazy smear in his memory. Every time he blinks, the day seems to have passed, leaving him alone in his too-bright room with his little plant.

“‘ _The Champion has been returned to you by the Blade of Marmora_.’ They left this message on you when you came back.”

Snapping out of his daze, Shiro looks up and frowns at the image on the screen. Furrowing his brows, he wishes he knew why something felt familiar about the note. He runs a hand through the whitened patch of hair and lets out a frustrated sigh.

Chemicals, his eccentric doctor had explained to him—but in far more words.

“Why is he being addressed as the ‘Champion’ by a well-known anti-empire faction?” one of the officers asks with open suspicion. “Colonel, I really must protest against your insistence on bringing him to these meetings. We are discussing sensitive information here.”

Ryner regards him coolly. “Your protest has been noted, First Lieutenant.”

Shiro knows he should be listening but their voices sound so far away compared to the cheering from the crowd.

_More blood._

_More fights._

_More contenders for the Champion_.

He gasps and looks up with cold sweat running down his face. The room has gone silent and all eyes are on him, waiting for an answer for his behaviour. He shrinks away from their attention, instinctively tugging down on the sleeve of his borrowed sweater.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just…” he trails off. Flexing the fingers of his prosthetic hand under the table, he thinks of the Holts and swallows hard. “I think I remembered something else. The Champion was what they called me in the arena.”

Ryner nods encouragingly. “Yes, you did tell us you were made to fight.”

“You must’ve done well to have earned that title,” another officer chimes in.

Looking down, he cradles his head as he watches snippets of his time in captivity flash before his eyes. He winces.

Well?

How many did he have to fight and win for that title?

How many people did he hurt?

How many did he _kill_?

Concerned, Ryner stands up and gestures at one of the junior officers. “Go fetch the nurse. He’s done for today. He needs to rest.”

“Wait, he still hasn’t told us what his connection to the Blade of Marmora is,” the first lieutenant protests.

“It’s no good, I’m trying but I can’t remember. I’m sorry.” Shiro screws his eyes shut and shakes his head, suddenly unable to breathe.

“We can’t let our mission hinge on something as unreliable as his memories!”

“First Lieutenant, _stand down_ or I will have you forcibly removed,” Ryner snaps, rushing to Shiro’s side. “Soldier, I need to take a deep breath for me.”

_“When you are ready, find us. The Blade of Marmora is with you.”_

Eyes wide and panicked, he does his best to follow the order. Glancing up at the screen again, he tries to find something to focus on and notice the small scribbles at the bottom of the worn note. Behind him, above the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, he can hear muffled footsteps and voices but he doesn’t dare look away from the image.

He’s given a wide berth as Florona approaches him. In a calm voice, she tells him to time his breathing to her instructions.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

It isn’t until he’s certain that he can breathe normally again that he looks away from the monitor and rasps, “Those glyphs. They were all around the arena. I think they’re coordinates.”

\--

The meetings stop after that with all of the officers returning to their base to continue their planning at a more private location. While he knows that he wouldn’t be doing anyone any favours, a part of him wishes he could join them because then he’d at least have something to focus on instead of being trapped with his own thoughts and violent memories.

Another week in and Shiro is moved to an apartment not too far from the hospital where he was told that under no circumstances was he to leave the premise alone or have contact with anyone outside of approved personnel. If the media caught wind of this story, the entire operation could be compromised.

He asks about his old apartment and is informed that it had been cleared out for new students and instructors. They reassure him that all his belongings were safe in a warehouse somewhere, but no, this apartment was only a temporary place for him to stay close to the hospital—just in case.

Despite being able to see the hospital from his living room window, the only mementos he has from his time there are a direct number to Ryner should he remember anything else, an endless list of recommended dietary supplements and exercises from Slav, and his little plant.

All the windows and blinds are open to chase away the darkness that creeps in sometimes, but that only helps during the day. At night, sleep eludes him. Every shadow seems a threat and every sound an attack. And when his body gives into the exhaustion, he’s plagued by scenes too real to be anything but memories.

While he feels a little safer knowing that there are guards on rotation outside and a little saner with his counsellor’s daily visits, the only time he feels a little more like himself is during the day when he’s tending to his plant or training. And although a part of him wants to be indignant about the house arrest, he looks down at his prosthetic arm and rubs a thumb over raised scars surrounding the metal, another part of him is glad that he doesn’t have to face the outside world just yet.

\--

Time continues to pass and he progressively feels guiltier and guiltier about not being able to tell anyone his whereabouts. He thinks about how worried Allura was when she found out about his mission, how disappointed Lance and Hunk were that he’d be unable to teach them, how proud Pidge was talking about her brother’s achievements.

How beautiful Keith was on the rooftop that last day.

Shiro shakes his head, ashamed of himself for thinking about these things while his best friend’s still missing and for wondering if things would ever go back to the way they were when everything suggested otherwise.

He hates how the thoughts circle around his head like vultures waiting for him to draw his last breath.

He hates how glum and insecure he’s become when he remembers a time when he was anything but.

Most of all, he hates how broken and helpless he feels, unable to do anything but wait for news, good or bad.

Pausing mid push up, Shiro silently curses under his breath for distracting himself and losing count. He’s about to start over again when there’s a knock at the door. Without thinking, he leaps onto his feet and drops into a defensive stance, which is how the guards find him when they enter using their set of keys.

He can feel his face flush in embarrassment as he lowers his arms and reaches down for his towel. His counselling sessions have helped him keep his reactions under control most of the time, but there were still occasions where he’s caught off guard and his limbs moved to protect him without his consent. “I’m sorry. You surprised me.”

How ridiculous he must look to them.

The guards, two young soldiers, who look to him with far more admiration than he feels he deserves, quickly shake their heads sheepishly and reassure him, “No, we apologize for the sudden intrusion, but we’ve received an order from the colonel to escort you to the hospital ASAP.”

“The colonel?” Shiro furrows his brows and squares his shoulders. He hasn’t heard from her since her and her team left all those weeks ago. Whatever she's calling him for must be important.

He needs the news

For better or for worse.

“Lead the way.”

\--

The car he’s picked up in drives around the hospital, away from the usual traffic. Peering out the tinted windows, he can see that they’re going to the building to the far left by the helicopter pad where all his meetings with Ryner and her team were held. Heart racing, he can only imagine what the colonel has in store for him.

When the car pulls up by the entrance, Shiro can see more soldiers stationed around the building. He is led inside through the main foyer where Ryner greets him with a smile as he stands at attention. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better.”

His throat feels constricted and all he can do is nod in response.

He doesn't feel any better.

“At ease, Soldier. You must have some idea why I’ve called you here,” Ryner says, turning around and motions for him to follow. “Come this way.”

As they walk down the hallway past medical staff and military personnel, she starts to debrief him. “Thanks to you deciphering those coordinates, we were able to gain a new ally in this war.”

“There really was something there then?” he asks, finding his voice again.

“Yes, and thanks to the intel we were given by that same ally, a few days ago, a raid was carried out on what we assumed to be a military outpost. But when our troops landed, we realized that it was actually a work camp,” Ryner tells him.

Shiro’s stomach drops. “A work camp?”

Ryner nods. “There were POWs, criminals, displaced people, and refugees—basically any outsider who was strong enough for manual labour. You can imagine our surprise when we found the Holts there.”

At the end of the hallway, they stop in front of a door with guards on either side and Shiro can’t believe what he’s hearing. “The Holts? You found Sam and Matt?”

“Correct. Samuel Holt is still being tended to, but Matthew Holt has been asking for you. You have an hour to see your friend before you’re to be escorted back,” Ryner says not unkindly. Before turning away, she adds, “We couldn’t have found them without you. Good work, soldier.”

Without hesitation, he opens the door and goes in to find his best friend sitting in a hospital bed looking only a little worse for wear. Unable to believe his eyes, he stops at the doorway at stares. It feels as though a boulder’s been lifted off his chest. “Matt...”

Matt whips his head up and stares at him for a long moment as though searching for something before bursting into tears. “Shiro, is it really you? Oh my god, Shiro, it’s you! It’s really you! I’m so sorry!”

He rushes over and to his friend’s side only to have the other wrap his arms around his waist. Looking down, he soothes Matt’s hair with his real hand, doing his best to comfort him. “Matt, hey, it’s okay! What are you talking about? Why are you apologizing?”

This isn’t the first time he’s seen Matt cry. Far from it, actually. He remembers one time when he watched his best friend cry over the mathematical elegance of a formula and another time over a nature documentary, but never because of him.

Never _over_ him.

“We never should've gone on that stupid mission. I never should've dragged you along in the first place. You shouldn't have taken my place in the arena. Shiro, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry,” Matt sobs, his knuckles white from clinging so tightly to his shirt.

He tilts the other’s head up to look him in the eyes. “Don't be stupid, Matt. You would've _died_ in there _._ I don't—I will never regret that decision. We’re both here. We both survived, didn't we?”

Matt doesn't reply. He just holds him tighter and continues crying. They stay like that for a long time until Matt reluctantly pulls away, leaving a large wet patch on his shirt.

Unfazed, Shiro smiles softly, the first in a very long time; the first reason he's had in a very long time. “How’s your dad? Have you heard from your family?”

“Dad’s fine. Overworked and malnourished but that's about it—it’s not your fault, Shiro,” Matt says, looking sternly at him as he swallows down the apology lodged in his throat. “He's fine now. He’s been in checkups and meetings all day. We haven’t seen my mom or Pidge yet, but they’re supposed to be allowed to visit in a few days after we get cleared.”

“That's good. I'm sure Pidge will be over the moon.”

Matt nods. “Have you seen her?”

He shakes his head. “No, I've been under house arrest for the last few weeks.”

“And you did as you were told?”

Shiro shrugs. “They wanted to minimize the risk of media leakage on this and I wasn't going to do anything that might jeopardize your safety.”

The atmosphere falters again. Matt looks down and notices the prosthetic for the first time. “Shiro, your hand…”

“I got a discount.”

“What?”

“I’ve been told that this kind of thing normally costs an arm and a leg,” he tries with a rueful smile.

Matt lets out a scoff. “You still have the worst sense of humour.” But having been friends for so many years, he doesn’t drop the subject. Instead, he dips his head and says, “I heard that it was thanks to you that we got rescued. You keep saving our lives and I don’t know how I could ever pay you back.”

“Knowing you and your dad are safe is more than enough for me,” he answers honestly.

Wiping the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown, Matt shakes his head. “Ever the hero. What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

Shiro laughs. “You helped me with my homework and bribed me with pictures of your dog.”

Laughing along, Matt pulls him into another hug and buries his face into his torso.

He can feel tears soaking through his clothes and reassures his friend quietly, “Hey, we’re going to be okay. You’ll see.”

Even as the words leave his mouth, he wonders if it’s really true.


	9. Chapter 9

“How are you feeling?”

While he feels like he’s made a lot of progress since his return, he doesn’t know if he should bring up the fact that he’s been sleeping sitting up, curled in the corner of his bed with his back against the wall instead of lying down because it makes him feel safer. Deciding against it, he defaults to, “I’m fine.”

No matter what they say, there are only so many things he can talk about before they write him off for good, he reasons.

Luxia, his counsellor, merely looks at him for a moment, not offering a rebuttal to his lie. Instead, she stands up and says, “Why don’t we take a walk? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Curious, he follows her out the apartment and down to the main lobby. After the Holts were rescued, he was given permission to come and go as he pleased, but he hasn’t made use of it yet, not ready to brave the reporters and stares of friends and strangers alike.

The lobby is empty with the doors manned by guards. The two of them leave the building and continue down the street until they arrive at the hospital. Shiro frowns and tries to joke, “Is this the part where you lock me away?”

“Nothing of the sort,” she reassures him gently.

They veer left towards the field where the hospital often holds its charity events and hosts sports festivals for children in need. It sits empty now save for a single person waving to them from the edge of the grass. As they approach, Luxia explains, “That’s Plaxum, she’s one of the top service dog trainers in the city.”

Shiro blinks. “Service dog trainer?”

Upon closer inspection, he can see that there’s a dog sitting patiently next to the woman. “Yes, Matthew Holt mentioned that you liked dogs so I decided to meet with Plaxum to see if this might be a good option for you. Service dogs are for more than just companionship. They go through rigorous training and screening to ensure they’re suitable for the job. They’re there to help you ground yourself and assist you where needed. The choice is yours. Would you like to go meet him?”

He hesitates. “Aren’t there people who’ve been waiting longer than me for this kind of thing? Isn’t there a waitlist or something?”

“There is a waitlist, but each dog is assessed so that they can be paired with the person they are most suitable to help based on their temperament and task-training,” she tells him. “And we just happened to find one that seemed perfect for you.”

“…I’d never pass up an opportunity to meet a dog,” he says eventually.

Luxia smiles and leads him towards the field where he sees the medium-sized dog wagging its tail at his approach. The trainer looks up and smiles. “I think he knows.”

“Shiro, I’d like you to meet Klaizap.”

“Go on, why don’t you try petting him,” Plaxum suggests.

He crouches down by the dog and strokes the soft golden brown fur. “Hey there, little guy. That’s quite the name you have, isn’t it?”

In response, the dog wags his tail harder and licks his hand.

Ruffling the fur on his head, Plaxum tells him, “He’s named after a local legend. Klaizap was bravest warrior of his tribe and saved his people from the wrath of the Lion Goddess.”

“That’s quite a name to live up to,” he says, scratching Klaizap behind the ears. “What kind of breed is he?”

“He’s a golden mix. We’re not too sure what the other half is though,” Plaxum says. “He was rescued from an abandoned puppy mill. He was half-starved and covered in fleas when animal rescue found him—or rather, when he found them.

“Somehow, he escaped from his cage and found his way out onto the street and got someone’s attention and had them follow him back. The person called animal rescue and from what I understand, this little guy here stood watch and wouldn’t leave until all the other puppies were rescued. His training started a little later than our other dogs, but he caught right up. It was like he knew this was his purpose.”

Shiro swallows hard and looks into the dog’s warm, intelligent eyes. In return, Klaizap drapes his paws over his arm and sits up a little higher. “Is it really alright for me to have him?” he asks quietly.

Plaxum nods encouragingly. “Of course. This is what he’s been waiting for.”

Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around the dog. His vision blurs and it takes a moment for him to realize they're tears.

 _His_ tears.

He tries to hold them back but his eyes are stinging and he’s just so exhausted from keeping everything in. It feels like he's been trying so hard for so long.

Tail wagging, Klaizap leans up and starts licking his face.

“Klaizap…” Burying his face into the dog’s fur, he finally allows himself to cry. “Looks like we both made it out alive, huh?”

\--

The media are given free rein over their coverage once word of the Holts’ return spreads. For the first week, Shiro is given bodyguards and a script to memorize and recite to the reporters.

Klaizap is always hidden in the back during press conferences because it wouldn't do to show a hero needing a crutch of any kind. So he swallows his discomfort and stands straight as he looks at the sea of flashing lights and endless questions, each looking for a story he isn't able to give.

Each watching and waiting for him to fail.

Just like the arena.

At his first press conference, he quickly learns that he supposedly caused the incident and when the reporters ask about the sandstorm and his ‘pilot error’, something that had been breezed over during his briefing. In the back of his mind, he remembers the script he’d been given. Equipment failure. That’s what he’s supposed to tell them, but all he can do is look over at the military and garrison representatives, betrayed.

Before he can decide on his answer, next to him, Matt quickly jumps in front of the microphones, his face clouded with outrage and indignation on Shiro’s behalf. “What are you talking about!? The sandstorm wasn't a problem, there was nothing wrong with the equipment, and there was no pilot error! We were captured by the Galra when we were trying to take off! Shiro saved our lives!”

One of the reps quickly steps onto the stage and usher them away. “That's enough questions for the day. This press conference is over!”

The reporters swarm the stage as the two of them are directed to the back. Matt grabs the first person he sees and demands, “Why would you say that!? Shiro’s the best pilot the garrison’s ever had, why would you ever say anything like that!?”

“It was a matter of morale for our troops and we couldn’t let the Galra know how big of a blow it was to us,” the representative answers.

“That is such bull—”

“Matt,” he cuts in before his friend can start a fight. Collecting Klaizap’s leash, he shakes his head. “It’s fine. Let’s just drop it. What’s done is done.”

Matt scowls. “No, let’s _not_ just drop it. Shiro, aren’t you upset? This is slander! They _ruined_ your reputation! You should be celebrated as a hero right now!”

“We’ll make things right,” the representative insists. “Shirogane, you’ll be decorated and recognized for your service to your country.”

Shiro sighs, letting a little of the exhaustion and numbness seep into his voice. “I don’t need that. Right now…right now, I’d rather be left alone.”

\--

He gets dropped off at a dog park near his old apartment because Klaizap has been cooped up all day but after half an hour or so, he notices someone staring at him from a distance. Then he sees the reflection of the camera lens and quickly calls Klaizap back and leashes him. “C’mon, boy, it’s time to go.”

Not wanting to be hounded by yet another reporter or photographer tailing him, he takes a detour and ducks into the building he used to live in. The lobby hasn’t changed at all. From the flickering lightbulb by the mailboxes to the little plastic plant in the corner, it almost feels like home.

Taking a deep breath, he musters up his courage and calls the elevator and steps inside. He presses the button for the top floor and feels his heart beat a little faster in anticipation with every passing floor. The entire way up, he imagines what the garden looks like now after more than a year and if he happens to run into Keith—would he be happy? Would he be relieved?

Would he be angry?

Would he even be there still?

The elevator pings and the doors open. He remembers Keith standing there the morning he left and the kiss.

_“You better hurry back so I can say yes!”_

Despite himself, he smiles at the memory.

Did he stay? Would he still say yes now after being kept waiting for so long?

What if Keith believed all the stories and rumours? A darker side of him whispers in his ear. What if he's disappointed? What if he's disgusted?

Shiro rubs the point of attachment on his prosthetic arm self-consciously and tugs his sleeve a little lower. Suddenly, all the scars he acquired during his year in the arena seem to throb and he wishes he wore another jacket; his body feeling too exposed.

Too ugly.

Swallowing down the thoughts, he makes his way to the stairwell and he can almost convince himself that he never left. Two flights of stairs up and he reaches the top where he finds the door to the roof closed. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and unease, he gathers himself and pushes it open and steps outside.

For a moment, he thinks he sees Keith turning around amidst a garden in full bloom.

Then reality hits him.

No plants.

No Keith.

Other than his memories, there’s no trace of the garden ever having been there.

There’s a painful tightness in his chest that worsens before the numbness and detachment spreads. He clutches the leash in his hand tightly and clenches his teeth.

But his eyes remain dry.

“Oh,” he says softly to Klaizap, “I guess I’ve lost this too.”


	10. Chapter 10

By the end of the week, the press conferences stop and most of the reporters have moved onto the next big story. The medal ceremony and formal apology goes by in a blur. The garrison calls him a hero, move him out of his temporary apartment, give him the key to the warehouse where his belongings are along with a small allowance and a notice to have all his things out by the end of the month, and then they leave him to his own devices.

It's only thanks to the Holts that he's able to find a reasonably priced apartment in such a short period of time.

From there, he's left on his own.

He still has his weekly check-ins with Luxia and Plaxum, but there are no more guards, no more military meetings, and no more cameramen lurking around the corner. The world has moved on and he wishes he could do the same.

Matt makes a habit of calling him every day if only to chat about the weather and to give him updates on Gunther. Shiro’s pretty sure he owes his entire social life to his best friend and does his best to set a routine for himself to match Matt’s unrelenting faith in him. Objectively, he knows that it’s the best way to live some semblance of a normal life again. But despite those thoughts, there are still days when he can’t bring himself to go outside save for Klaizap’s sake.

It’s the least he can do for the sole reason he’s able to get any amount of sleep at night again.

\--

On a particularly good day, he makes it all the way to the garrison with the intention of discussing potential teaching positions in the future; after all, he still needs to pay his rent. He knows it’s a long shot right now given his psych evaluation, but he wants to know if he’ll ever get the chance again. Despite his reservations about the garrison, Matt encouraged his proactivity and was going to come along but couldn’t make it due to his own counselling session.

So, with the promise of calling with an update later, Shiro went on his own.

He immediately regrets his decision when students start turning around and stopping in their tracks to stare at him, no doubt recognizing him from both his time as a student and his recent claim to fame. Most of them are happy enough taking pictures from afar; it makes him feel like an animal put on display, but at least they leave him alone.

The braver students are the ones that stop him to ask questions.

From previous interactions, he's learnt that normal people rarely wanted the full story. When they asked about his time in captivity, they weren’t interested in hearing about starvation and experimentations and all the deaths that were involved.

Despite how they poked and prodded him about his appearance and all the things he could’ve, should’ve done, they didn’t care about what he had to say on the matter. They didn’t want to listen to the struggles of readjusting to society and the flaws in their system.

They had no interest in having their day ruined by the likes of him.

So he gives vague answers, just enough to satisfy.

No, it was terrible there.

Yes, it’s good to be back.

No, he didn't crash in the storm.

Yes, the war effort is still important.

And where he can't shake them off, he deflects with humour.

Today is a little different. He supposes he should've expected this. The students start drawing more and more attention to him and soon, a crowd forms around him. Klaizap does his best to stand between him and the sea of strangers if only to give him space to _breathe_.

Here, they all know his name.

Inwardly, he recoils from their gazes and tries to take a step back but there are people all around him. He swallows hard and wills himself to push back the flashback looming threateningly in his mind, determined to maintain control over himself.

His vision is starting to tunnel when he hears a familiar voice cut through the crowd, “‘Scuse me! Hot stuff coming through!”

Shiro looks up and thinks he sees Matt for a moment, but entirely too tall. As they draw closer, he realizes that it's Pidge.

Sitting on Hunk’s shoulders.

The crowd parts way for them and Shiro watches as they make a beeline for him with identical grins on their faces. But instead of ramming into him, they curve around and he can see Lance there behind the pair, pushing them along.

“Hey Shiro. Cute dog,” Hunk greets him with a smile as he runs by.

Lance reaches out and offers a hand to him. “You coming or what?”

Without thinking, he clasps Lance’s hand and lets himself be pulled along by their momentum. Klaizap’s ears perk up warily as he follows along.

Escaping, they leave the frazzled crowd behind and continue until they're off campus grounds altogether. They don't stop until Hunk bends forward to brace his knees and catch his breath, nearly throwing Pidge off in the process. “Oh man, guys, we gotta stop. I can't run any further.”

A little winded from the sudden sprint, Shiro can't help but chuckle, feeling lighter than he has since his return. He ignores the twinge of disappointment in his chest when he sees that there are only the three of them. “Thanks for the rescue. How'd you know to come find me?”

Pidge climbs down off Hunk’s shoulders and flashes her phone at him with a grin. “Matt gave me a head’s up that you'd be coming.” Then more seriously, she hugs him and says, “Him and my dad told me about everything you did for them. Thank you for saving my family, Shiro. I'm sorry I haven't visited.”

He ruffles her hair gently. “Don't worry about it, Pidge. You had a lot on your plate. I'm sorry for not coming around too.”

“Whoa, why are you apologizing, big guy? If anyone’s had a lot in their plate recently, it’s you,” Lance says.

Hunk nods in agreement. “Lance is right. You’ve been through a lot, man. I mean, I'm really glad to see you, but it would've been fine if you took your time. We understand.”

Shiro’s eyes soften. “Thanks, guys.”

The three of them exchange smiles. “Anytime, Shiro. Since we're all here anyway, why not head to the cafe? We've been preparing for your return and Hunk came up with this amazing drink last week.”

Flustered, Hunk twiddles his thumbs and shakes his head. “Aww, dude. You're just saying that.”

Lance wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “No way, stop being so modest! Shiro, now you _have_ to try it!”

“Well, I've never been able to say no to Hunk’s drinks,” he says with a laugh and lets himself be led away.

\--

The door opens and there's the familiar jingle of little bell. Before stepping inside, Shiro glances at the ‘Back in 30’ sign at the window. “It’s rare for you guys to leave the place unattended.”

“Allura’s at some meeting, Coran is away until next week, and none of us wanted to be left out of the rescue,” Pidge explains.

Shiro wants to ask about the distinct lack of mention of Keith, but Lance runs inside and beckons him to follow. “Oh my god, we have so many things to show you, Shiro! Hunk, you coffee guru, get in here! Make him your _Cuban Delight_! He has to try it!”

They all step inside and Shiro looks around in amazement. Everything is as he remembers: the smell of coffee and flowers, the handwritten menu on the chalkboard, and the hand-painted pots. It fills him with relief to see the potted plants there. Then he looks up at the rafters. “Looks like the grapes worked out for you guys.”

Pidge nods. “They were still pretty small last year, but I think they’ll be a lot better this year. Depending on the yield, we were thinking about starting a fruit stand on the side along with the figs and berries we’ve been growing in the back. That, or we could start making edible corsages like Lance and Hunk were suggesting.”

“Wouldn’t that be the best thing though?” Lance argues, all while ushering Shiro to sit down. “Imagine you’re at a dance or a party and hungry and no one’s serving food yet. Your stomach’s about to make whale noises and embarrass you in front of that special someone so what do you do? Have a snack-sized fruit salad, that’s what, am I right, Hunk?”

Popping out from behind the counter, Hunk nods. “Completely behind you on this one, buddy. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first, Pidge. Hey Shiro, any new dietary concerns I should be aware of?”

He shakes his head. “No, still the same as before.”

At least something is, he doesn’t add.

From his side, Klaizap nudges his hand and he automatically reaches down and starts petting the dog. Noticing this, Pidge says, “Finally got yourself a dog, hmm? Matt was telling me about all the photos you’ve been sending him. What’s its name?”

“Yeah, he came trained and everything,” he answers lightly. “This is Klaizap, he’s the bravest warrior of his tribe. He’s helped me out a lot since I got back. And he’s very a photogenic dog. It'd be a crime to not send pictures of him.”

“Speaking of photos,” Lance says, returning from behind the counters with a thick album in hand. “Look, we made you a scrapbook to catch you up!”

“Actually, it was Allura’s idea,” Pidge tells him. “She kept all these photos and clippings around and then one day, Lance and Hunk found it and immediately went out to buy glitter glue and markers.”

Shiro smiles softly, running a finger down the gilded edge of the cover. “You shouldn’t have.” He flips through the pages and sees them pasted chronologically with care. Around the clippings, there are intricate decorations drawn in glitter, reminding him of Blue’s pot, and comments written in markers.

He sees Pidge winning contests at the garrison, and Allura standing proudly next to a fruit tree, holding its first yield. He sees a page featuring all of Hunk’s gastronomic creations, Coran’s travels, and Lance kissing a plaque he won for best flower arrangement. He sees Keith crouched over, unaware of the camera, transplanting a little tree into its new home. In the next photo, Keith looks up surprised, then a scowl, then there’s a hand covering his face, and in the final photo, it’s nothing but a blur as he runs away followed by a photo of Lance’s face, a little too close to the camera and grinning.

All over the page, he reads their banter through their comments. In his mind, he can hear their voices—can imagine their expressions. On one page, he sees Coran’s neat writing filling the entire space with an anecdote he brought back from his latest trip and smiles to himself.

Hunk brings him a drink and a slice of pie, and the three of them start pointing out events and telling him about them as he eats.

“Oh man, I remember that. We did this one particularly bad flight sim and, _dude_ , I puked so hard I think even Iverson was worried about me.”

“Never mind that, remember that fly infestation we got here? I thought Allura was going to set the place on fire!”

“I thought she was going to set _you_ on fire after she found out it was your week-old lunch that started everything.”

With the photos, he watches how their lives progressed without him. He looks at the dates and tries to imagine what he was doing at the same time. With his free hand, he continues petting Klaizap, who is now patiently resting his head in his lap. It helps remind him that he’s still here; that everything’s passed now.

Shiro continues turning the pages until he sees about three months in, there’s a comment written in the corner.

_‘The day Keith **didn’t** get expelled forever.’_

He points to the comment and asks, “What does this mean?”

The three of them exchange glances. Lance rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Whoops, I thought I scratched that out.”

Furrowing his brows, Shiro asks, “What happened?”

“It was my fault,” Pidge suddenly confesses. “It was about two months after the Kerberos mission when they announced that there was a pilot error and the crew was lost. Me and Keith didn’t believe any of it, so we went and decided to look into it ourselves.

“We snuck into the garrison at night and were downloading data from Iverson’s computer when he came in and caught us. Keith covered for me and made a run for it to give me time to finish the download. They thought he was just being a genius pilot with too much free time and let him off with a warning.”

Shiro frowns but remains silent.

“The data I got was mostly GPS coordinates and military logs, but then we also found your last transmissions to the base before you got taken,” Pidge tells him. “We knew it wasn’t a pilot error, but based on the logs I found, we thought the military would be out trying to rescue you or something so we waited. But then three months in, the garrison tried to roll out this new flight sim where the mission was to ‘rescue the Kerberos crew’.”

“Oh man, Keith _lost_ it,” Lance says, jumping in. “He literally went in and short-circuited the thing. It took four instructors to drag him out. When they asked him what he thought he was doing, he straight up looked them in the eyes and told them to stop wasting time on making stupid sims about some fake event based on some made up pilot error that never happened and to start looking for where the Galra took you to stage a _real_ rescue mission. They were totally going to expel him and the whole shebang. It got so bad, Allura had to step in.”

“Allura?” he asks.

Hunk nods. “Yeah, you know the Alfor Building at the garrison? That’s actually Allura’s dad. Huge surprise, right? We didn’t know either. Turns out, he was a big supporter of the garrison, so Allura was able to pull some strings and Keith got off with a suspension. They took away his scholarship too so he had to move in with us for a little while.”

“Wasn't that just the worst? He was even moodier than usual. Like, he was _so sad_ that even I felt bad for him. I hated it,” Lance complains.

Laughing warmly, Hunk nudges his friend. “You big liar. You tried so hard. Who was the person trying to goad him into playing video games to distract him from the news? You totally would’ve been fine with him staying with us long term.”

Lance scowls and drapes himself over the taller boy in protest. “Nu-uh, how dare you insinuate any sort of friendship between us!”

Shiro smiles at the pair. “I'm glad he had you guys there with him. Is he still there?”

The pair frown and shake their heads then immediately point at Pidge and simultaneously say, “It was Pidge’s fault!”

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “Wow, guys, way to throw me under the bus.”

“Do I _look_ like someone who’d risk the disapproval of my biggest hero?”

Pidge sighs. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that.”

“Also, you already said it was your fault earlier, didn’t you? Besides, Shiro knows my _abuela_ , Pidge!” Lance adds with increasing urgency. “My abuela!”

Keeping his tone soft, Shiro asks, “So what happened?”

A little uncomfortably, Pidge mutters, “Allura may have caught us looking up flights to the Galra Empire at Lance’s place and forbade us from speaking to one another without supervision. After that, Keith moved in with Coran for a bit but then he decided to move out on his own.” She glances over and frowns. “Don’t look at me like that! It was just to get a little closer so that we could pick up their signals better, I swear! I’m really sorry, okay? Please don’t freak out at me because Matt already did. Multiple times.”

After a measured breath, he shakes his head and sighs, “I’m not going to freak out at you, Pidge. I'll leave that to Matt.”

To his side, Lance mouths the words, ‘He’s disappointed!’

“I’m not disappointed, Lance,” he says with a slight smile. “If anything, I’m touched you guys thought up such a reckless plan to come get us. I’m glad Allura and Coran were there to stop you, but touched nonetheless.”

Hunk leans down and gives him a long hug. “Man. _Dude_. You have no idea how much we missed you. Please don’t leave us ever again.”

It’s easy to slip back into the person he used to be around these three—being relied on and called upon to lead. He returns the embrace and pats the other boy on the back soothingly. “You guys had a tough time, huh?”

Lance throws his arms in the air in exasperation. “You don’t even know the half of it! Allura’s always cranky because of all those stupid meetings even though she’s still as beautiful as ever. Hunk was sad. Pidge was smad. Coran was busy all the time. Keith was Keith. And he kept moving—oh my god, the _moving_! And the _plants_! Do you know how many _plants_ he has up on that roof?”

Listening to his rant calmly, Shiro smiles. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Without missing a beat, Lance continues, “Then you know how heavy they are! And you know how horrible your elevators are! And we didn’t have to do it once, not twice, but _three times_! Just when we got everything moved, he goes and moves _again_ and then _again_! And we may have accidentally dropped one of the plants and cracked the pot one of those times but it was an _accident_ and one incident out of three moves isn't bad! Man, Keith was so mad though, I thought he was going to chuck someone off the roof. Then Coran had to go away on business and took Keith with him so now I’m stuck watering all those stupid plants and he probably chose his new place out of spite because it’s on the _opposite_ _side of town_!”

“Feel better, bud?” Hunk asks knowingly.

Exhaling deeply, Lance nods and collapses on the other side of Shiro, his arms wrapping loosely around him. “So much better. Thank god you’re back, Shiro.”

“Thanks, Lance. Good job holding the fort down while I was gone. Couldn’t have done it without you. If you’d like, I can go water those plants for you?” Shiro offers, rubbing Lance on the back. “I don’t have very much to do these days anyway.”

“Would you really? Yes! This is why you’re my hero!”

Looking over, he smiles at Pidge and opens his arms a little wider to invite her in. She gives him a teary smile and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

To the side, the doorbell chimes and he hears a soft gasp. “Shiro? Is it really you?”

He looks up past the three wrapped around him and waves the best he can. “Hey Allura. I’m back.”


	11. Chapter 11

He stays late into the evening at the cafe and all but collapses when he returns to his apartment. The reunion exhausted him but also filled him with a warmth he didn't know he missed.

The crash comes the next day where he opens his eyes, startled out of his sleep by fleeting memories and haunting nightmares and Klaizap licking his face. “I'm okay, boy. I'm fine. Thanks,” he grumbles, rolling over.

It's not going to be a good day. He can feel a looming sense of dread in the pit of his stomach like a piece of lead weighing him down. Without opening the curtains, he knows it's too early to be getting up; the world feels grey and bleak today and all he wants to do is sleep for another week or two.

Grabbing a second pillow, he sandwiches his head between them and sighs in the relief at the added muffled darkness around him.

To his side, he can hear Klaizap’s collar tinker as he turns around before lying down and waiting patiently for him as he gathers himself.

He manages a brief nap before his brain forces him back to consciousness once more. Lying in bed for another hour, he eventually relents and gets up to let the dog out.

The desert sun is blinding and he wishes it'd give way back to night. Closing the blinds and curtains around the apartment, he eats his breakfast in the dark, comprising of a piece of bread and a glass of tap water.

Maintaining the routine he set for himself, he manages to kill enough time to get through the morning. The only consolation he can find is that tomorrow might be a better day, and it's only the thought of watering Keith’s plants that eventually motivate him to go outside.

The building is on his side of the small city, only a 20 minute walk away.

A little hesitantly, he steps inside and finds it in about the condition as his old apartment—their old apartment. There's only one elevator in the building and it was an old one that came equipped with a folding door and a metal gate.

At the sound of the gates squeaking open, Shiro freezes.

For a moment, he's back in a cell lit only by the dim glow of eerie violet. Something licks at his hand and he looks down to see Klaizap. Completely calm.

He takes a deep breath and tells himself, “It's just an elevator. It's either this or the stairs. C’mon, you can do it. You're better than this.”

Despite his pep talk, it still takes him a minute to brace himself. Fingers tightening their grip on Klaizap’s leash, he takes a step in and pushes the button for the top floor before he can change his mind. Being in the elevator is better than he expects.

But then the doors close.

At the sound of the metal gate sliding shut, his heart jump up his throat and he tenses.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

He doesn’t even manage to get half way up the building before he can't take it anymore and slams his hand on the button to gets off on the next floor. No amount of nudging from Klaizap could stop his barrage of memories. Gasping for air as he tumbles out, he hunches over and waits for his vision to refocus.

“Sorry, looks like we're taking the stairs,” he sighs. When he sees the dog wagging his tail, he manages a shaky smile. “You're too good to me, bud.”

The trek up is long but he doesn't mind it in the wake of his panic attack. Stepping out the door to the roof, he's hit with a welcomed gust of fresh air and inhales deeply. Then when he rounds the doorway, all he can do is gasp.

There are plants everywhere.

He sees potted plants, flower beds, fruits and vegetables, and hanging baskets and vines. Walking towards them, he pauses only to read the tags hanging off branches and sticking out of the dirt to see what Keith has grown. Towards the back ledge, he sees a familiar sight.

His plants.

 _Their_ plants.

They're taller and healthier than he remembers. A few have been transplanted into new pots, he can tell, but Keith took the time and care to make sure the pots were kept in the same place and painted the same colour.

Shiro leads Klaizap over to them and notices a chair in front of it. Smiling, he sets his messenger bag down next to it and goes to take a closer look at the plants. Black looks a little discoloured and there’s a large crack in its pot but the others looked great.

“And I'll form the head,” he mutters to himself with a smile, running a hand over the crack.

He goes back to his bag and takes out the thin stack of paper and, one by one, goes about on a scavenger hunt to find all the plants listed. Matching the name tag to the manual, he carefully follows the instructions and waters them.

When he circles back to his plants, he tests his memory by explaining the watering instructions to himself then checking Keith’s manual. He looks down at the page and blinks in surprise when he sees that instead of being listed individually by their plant name, his plants are grouped together in a diagram and listed by the names he’d bestowed them.

It's a small gesture, but it fills him with warmth. Finishing up his round, Shiro decides to stay around a little longer. After sending an obligatory photo of Klaizap smelling a flower to Matt, he takes a seat in the chair and pulls out the scrapbook he received from the cafe and goes through it.

Amidst the endless plants all brought up with care and patience, he finds some semblance to peace.

\--

He repeats this addition to his routine for the next few days. The climb up isn't ideal, but he's not ready to try the elevator again. After going around, tending to the plants, he'll take a seat and catch up on his reading.

One day, just as he's getting up, someone bursts through the doorway onto the roof, out of breath and frantic.

“...Shiro?”

He freezes and slowly turns around.

Standing there is an all too familiar sight.

“Keith...”

His voice comes out rawer than expected.

Cautiously, Keith makes his way to towards him, his disbelief evident. And he stands there, waiting for the approach. When they're finally a mere arm's length apart, Shiro has to swallow back his anxiety, willing himself to not tug his sleeve down no matter how badly he wants to.

Eyes searching for something and seemingly finding it, Keith visibly relaxes. “Shiro, it's really you.”

“As me as I can be,” he replies quietly, a little ruefully.

“I…I’m...” Blinking back the tears, Keith rushes forward and all Shiro can do is wrap his arms around the other boy.

“I'm sorry for not coming sooner,” he says.

Pulling back, Keith shakes his head vehemently. “No, that’s not it. I'm just...I'm just glad to see you again. It’s good to have you back.”

Shiro can't help but smile as he pulls the other back for a quick hug. “Thanks, Keith. It's good to be back.”

There's a slight pause between them as Keith averts his gaze. The nervousness returns almost immediately. Was something wrong? Did he do something? Was it his arm? Was it his scars? Did he make Keith uncomfortable?

His mind starts racing but then Keith mutters sheepishly, “I see you got a dog.”

Startled out of his loop of thoughts, he lets out a bark of laughter. “I see you grew carrots.”

Keith's cheeks redden. “I only grew them because you asked me to.” Then he shrinks back and mutters, “Sorry, I've been waiting for you to come back but now that you're here, I don't know what to say.”

“Hey, it’s okay…”

He's about to reassure the other boy when Keith suddenly blurts, “This is all Lance’s fault.”

Shiro blinks. “What?”

“He should've messaged me about this when he first saw you! But instead, he waited until I was in the middle of helping Coran unload to bring it up. I ran all the way here and didn't have any time to think about things to say,” Keith complains.

Stifling his laughter with a smile, he clasps the other's shoulder gently. “Why don't we start here then? The only plants I recognize are those seven.”

The tension drains out of Keith and he nods. “Well, after you were gone, I was kind of…lost, and I had a lot of time even while working full time, so I guess I started focusing on this instead.”

“I heard some of the stories. What happened?”

The two of them sit down and talk. He listens to Keith tell his side of the story, and as much as he wants to scold and disapprove of the other boy’s actions during his captivity, he can see guilt in the way Keith averts his gaze.

“That was a pretty reckless move. If Allura hadn’t been there…”

“I know! I know, but no one was willing to do anything! They would’ve just left you there—they would’ve just let everyone assume it was your fault! How could I just sit there and not do anything about it?” Keith frowns and looks down at his lap. “I heard it, you know? Your last transmission. You were unarmed but they still hurt you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Shiro’s eyes soften. He remembers that moment—that fear. It wasn’t something he’d wanted to put anyone else through. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. I wish I'd been there to help.”

Scowling, Keith asks, “Why are you apologizing, Shiro? It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. If you were there, I wouldn't have…” Catching himself in his anger, he shakes his head and drops the subject. “All that matters is that you’re back.”

“Most of me anyway,” he replies holding out his prosthetic arm, voice a little more wry than he wanted. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.”

Instead of brushing him off or laughing, Keith turns to him earnestly and says, “I know this can’t be easy to deal with, and I wish I could make this all go away but I can’t. We’re all here for you though, and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know and I’ll do it.”

He considers arguing. He considers shrugging it off. But in the end, he decides on honesty because Keith deserved nothing less. “Seeing you already helps,” he says with a weary smile. “But, Keith...I don’t know if I can ever be the person you saw off in the elevator again.”

Shaking his head, Keith tells him, raw and honest, “That’s fine. _You're_ fine, Shiro. You don't have to be that person. The one I wanted to see was you and you're here— _you came back_ , and you're still you in all the ways that matter.”

Touched, he draws them close and touch their foreheads together. “Thanks, Keith,” he says quietly, sincerely, “but I don't know if I can believe that just yet.”

After a moment of thought, Keith nods to himself, as decisive as he remembers. “Then we can start small. You wanted to learn more about these plants, right? Like you said, let's start here. And you can tell me more about your dog. What’s his name?”

Shiro looks down and his smile comes a little easier. “This is Klaizap. He's the bravest warrior of his tribe.”

Just like that, they spend the rest of the day talking about plants and dogs until the sun begins to set. Checking his phone, Shiro reaches down and grabs Klaizap’s leash. “We better head back, huh? Looks like it's just about dinner time.”

“Have you been eating well?” Keith asks tentatively.

“Probably not as well as I should,” he admits, thinking of his barren fridge. He'll have to go grocery shopping soon, but the thought doesn't bring him any joy. “Still better than instant noodles though.”

Keith frowns and rubs the back of his neck. “That's my bad. I set your standards too low. But, hey, while I was at Hunk’s, I had him show me how to make some basic dishes. If you want…”

He weighs it in his mind and shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Keith, today’s not a good day.” He can feel a headache coming on from all the excitement and the last thing he wants is to accidentally fall asleep in front of Keith only to scream himself awake. “I—”

Keith places a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Hey, it's fine. I need to go get groceries anyway.”

“I'm sorry,” he says again, feeling defeated all over again.

“Stop it. Don't you ever apologize to me for taking care of yourself,” Keith scolds. “Just let me know what works for you and we can start with that.”

Shiro goes over his schedule for the week and slowly suggests, “How about Friday?”

That’ll give him tonight to collapse and tomorrow to deal with the subsequent low that’s sure to come, he reasons.

Keith nods. “That works for me.”

“Can I still come up here tomorrow to help you water your garden?” he asks tentatively.

Brows furrowing, Keith tilts his head in confusion. “Of course. You can come whenever you want. Here, I’ll give you my number. If you want company just text me. I have tomorrow off.” Then with a shrug, he quickly adds, “Otherwise, I’ll just sleep off my jetlag and that’s fine too. So either way…”

Oh, he’s trying to be considerate, Shiro realizes. He smiles and clasps Keith’s shoulder a little more confidently. “I’ll text you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith replies with a relieved smile. A familiar feeling of warmth and affection floods him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

They walk back inside and Keith doesn’t question him when he goes to take the stairs down.

\--

The next day, Shiro finds Keith waiting for him in the lobby and they take the stairs up in silence.

A month in, he has a particularly bad day and can't bring himself to leave his apartment, and he wants nothing more than to curl up and cry because he'd been doing _so well_. He manages to text Keith, who comes over to let Klaizap out and sits with him. They sit in silence while Keith rubs his arm soothingly, and when Shiro starts talking about his time in captivity, all he does is listen.

Two months in, he manages to take the elevator all the way to the top floor of the building. And if Keith was holding his hand the entire way, neither of them mention it.

Four months in, he takes the elevator up to Keith’s floor for dinner on his own. The metal gate still makes him flinch, but now, he can look down at Klaizap, calm and supportive, and quietly count down the number of floors left to go.

When they finish eating, Keith sees him to the elevator and asks, “Want me to come down with you?”

Shiro smiles. It comes easier to him now. “No, I’ve got this. I’ll be fine. Besides, you have class tomorrow so you should head to bed soon.”

“You should head to bed once you get home as well. Just because you’re a national hero, don’t think that’s enough to escape Allura’s wrath if you show up late to work. Not to mention you’ve got your psych evaluation coming up. I bet Iverson will cry actual tears if you help take over his classes again,” Keith says.

He chuckles. “With all the chaos you, Pidge, and Lance have been causing, you mean.”

Keith grins as the elevator arrives. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. Go on, have a safe trip home. Text me when you're back and I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Stepping into the cabin, he reaches an arm back out and cups the other boy’s face. “And Keith, thanks for being so patient with me.”

Leaning into the touch, Keith replies, “Patience yields focus.”

“That really stayed with you, didn’t it?” he teases softly.

A shrug. “Yeah, well, I had something really important I wanted to focus on.”

He arches a brow. “Hmm? And what might that be?”

In a matter-of-factly tone, Keith points at him and says, “You.”

“Oh.” At a loss for words, he lets his arm drop and the door begins to close.

Then suddenly, the doors open again and Keith pokes his head in and gives him a peck on the cheek. “If you’re still thinking about asking, whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here waiting to say yes.”

With a hand on his cheek, he doesn't even hear the metal gates slide shut.

He still doesn't feel like he did before the Kerberos mission, and if he's being honest, he suspects that he never will again. But for the first time in a long very long time, he thinks that that’d be okay.


	12. Epilogue

There’s a garden on the roof.

Amidst the vine tangled trellises, flower boxes, and hand-painted potted plants of all sizes, there’s a blanket laid out and enough food to feed a family of twelve.

“That won’t do, Number Four. You need more greens on that plate.”

“Coran, stop piling food onto my plate! I’m perfectly capable of getting my own food!” Keith protests, yanking his plate away.

Lance grins. “Don’t listen to him, Coran. He’s just saying that because he hates carrots and ends of giving all of it to Shiro.”

“Shut up, Lance! You’re such a narc!”

“Am not and make me!”

Hands up to placate, Hunk cries, “Guys, let’s just calm down and enjoy this meal, okay?”

“Yes, if you two drop any of this food Hunk, Coran and I worked so hard on onto the floor, you can expect a cut from your paycheque,” Allura threatens.

Lance immediately withers. “Aw man, that’s not fair! I need that money! Me and Pidge were going to go buy that console on the weekend! I will literally jump into the fountain at the mall to collect coins if we end up short on cash. Speaking of, where is she?”

Hunk shrugs. “Her and her brother should be on their way. Take a look over the ledge and see if you see them, would you, dude? I’d do it, but high places nauseate me.”

“It’s fine, I’ll check,” Shiro offers, getting up with Keith and Klaizap following closely behind. He laughs and holds out his plate for the other boy to transfer all his carrots over. “You really should eat _some_.”

Keith scowls and eats two pieces. “Happy?”

“Oh, so much better. Such sacrifices you make,” he teases. Leaning over the ledge, he looks down at the streets. “Hunk, I don’t see anyone there.”

Allura furrows her brows. “That’s strange. Let me give Pidge a call and see if something is holding them up.”

“I bet Tall Pidge slept in,” Lance says with an offhanded wave.

“Or maybe they got stalled by a Taujeerian in need of help,” Coran suggests.

As Coran launches into a tale about the time he spent in Taujeer, returning to their seats, Shiro turns to Keith and says quietly, “Thank you for all this.”

Keith smiles and laces their fingers together. “You didn’t think we’d let you get reinstated in peace, did you? Especially after you and Big Pidge broke into the garrison and set a new record for that stupid Kerberos sim.”

“I guess I should’ve known better,” he relents, giving the other boy’s hand a squeeze. “To be fair though, I didn’t break into anything anywhere. Matt had a card key.”

“Aw, guys, do it somewhere else,” Lance calls out with a pout. “Some of us are still single, you know? Think about poor Lancey Lance here!”

“Sorry, Lancey Lance,” Shiro replies with a chuckle but doesn’t let go.

Just then, a voice comes from the doorway, “Sorry we’re late! You guys started without us!?”

“That's the price for tardiness,” Shiro calls out teasingly.

A scoff. “Really? This is the thanks I get for going out of my way to make you happy?”

“What?” He turns to see two Holts along with a familiar four-legged sight and beams. “Gunther!”


End file.
